


Soul of the Ghost

by MirrorandImage



Category: Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Kanan, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-28 16:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19398283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorandImage/pseuds/MirrorandImage
Summary: In which Kanan does something equal parts amazing and stupid, and the crew rallies to fix the fallout.





	1. Chapter 1

For the record, it was bad from the start. The objective? Do some recon for Commander Sato in the Outer Rim about rumors of a new Imperial weapon. The result? A Super Star Destroyer rushing out and chasing them willy-nilly until Hera pulled off another miracle and dropped off Imperial scanners long enough to make them land on a nearby system. Never ending plains of red grass, purple sky, and just enough atmospheric distortion to buy them some time. It was a frantic all-hands-on-deck _frenzy_ to get the Ghost capable of flight and hyperspace to _get the kriff out of here._ Nobody slept for something like two days, Chopper giving curse-filled orders while Ezra was in the smallest confines of the ducts with Zeb hanging upside down handing out tools as Sabine looked up every manual she ever collected and Hera more black than green for all the work she was doing. Kanan, not the most mechanically inclined compared to the rest did what he could, but mostly he was kneeling in the cockpit, open to the Force, trying to buy them time as he simply willed himself to be good enough to sense when the Imperials found their location.

Kanan had been a Padawan for a grand total of _six months_ before the Purge, most of that time hopping from one planet to another, thirteen and asking a hundred questions trying to soak up all the information he could, wanting to have all the information before making any decisions. He learned a lot about military command (which he later found out was not _nearly_ enough), a lot about negotiations, reading people, using the Force to judge timing, trusting the moment. Very little time, however, was spent in _training_ , because he was hopping from one battle to the next with his Master, a General, and he somehow a Commander at _thirteen_ , a child warrior not unlike Ezra now. His lightsaber training was way behind, his skills unrefined, there was no finesse, like he could always feel with his Master, or the other Jedi. He had a lot to learn, and he looked forward to it.

But then...

And now...

Not for the first time, Kanan wished very badly that he had somehow completed his training, that he had the ability, the know-how, and the skills to do what was necessary instead of spending so much of his time convinced he didn't know what the _kriff_ he was doing and trying to get by regardless because there was no one else to rely on. There were some days when his inadequacies hit him so hard he wanted to go back to the binge drinking, go back to the days when he was so lost, so focused on surviving, being invisible, and convinced that was somehow enough. There had been less pain, certainly, but less _life_ , and it wasn't until meeting Hera that he realized how much of himself he'd lost. When the urges hit, the inadequacies became too strong, he knew to make a beeline right to Hera.

Right now, though, he couldn't afford to give in to self-doubt, he just had to make sure everyone had enough time to finish the repairs and get out.

"Kanan, any sign of the Impies?"

"No, Hera, not yet."

"Are we still good?"

"Yes, Zeb."

"Kanan, how long to we have?"

"I don't know Sabine."

"Kanan-"

"I'm doing the best I can!" he grunted, eyes snapping open to see Ezra's wide blue eyes. The former Padawan winced, realizing how sharp he'd been, and put a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Sorry," he said, standing up. "It's hard to concentrate with so many interruptions. I'll go out to the hull, maybe I'll have better luck there."

Ezra nodded slowly, still a little uncertain. Kanan couldn't blame the kid, after so many years out on the streets his social skills were even worse than _Kanan's_ , and the boy sometimes didn't know how to react to parents that were sharp. Kanan squeezed, nodding in reassurance, and a slow smile spread on the kid's face. Small favors, Kanan would take what he could get at this rate. "Tell Hera where I am."

Ezra nodded again, more confident this time, and went back to whatever air duct he'd been in.

Kanan lowered the cargo ramp and touched the Force enough to leap up to the top of the ship. The red grass, waist high, undulated in a small but stiff breeze, and the purple sky was a myriad of shades as the sun slowly set to the north. Kanan knelt down, taking a deep breath of the air. The scent was spicy, prickling his nostrils and reminding him what it was like to _not_ breathe recycled air of a ship. He focused on that scent, the feeling of life it gave, the hint of the Force, the Living Force, that filled so much of the galaxy. The purples were settling to dark blues, the clouds filling in and a hint of a storm was in the air. Kanan breathed it in, his brain slowly expanding, reaching further than inside the ship.

The Force was a beautiful thing when he touched it. He had nearly gone insane after the Purge, unworthy and unwilling to touch it and give away that a Jedi still lived. He had felt unworthy of the Force for years, for running when his Master told him to, for cowardly living when everyone else was dead. No training, no teacher, a small mountain of baggage and the desperate need to survive had taught him to be small, un-special, to never stand out. The Force faded from his mind, survival overruling everything else, and for a little while he started to think he had lost his connection. Hera made him remember what the Force was like, but even then, it was small bursts, when there was no other recourse, no other way to survive. And then Ezra had come.

It wasn't until the Inquisitor, until the torture, that all his fears had come to the fore. All his insecurities had been laid bare by that creature, and he'd been forced to admit every failure, even if only to himself. All of his emotional baggage had been ripped out of him, one horrible memory and issue at a time, and he had been forced to face them, look at them, examine them. And as they were drawn out, as the pain and come and come and _come,_ all that had been left was the Force. Everything faded away when he reached out and touched it, let it accept all his pain, his years of repression and forgive him without hesitation, accepting him as he was. He let it all in, allowed the Force inside him as he hadn't since the Purge, and it was eager to have him.

The Inquisitor had been impressed with his resistance to the torture, but in reality Kanan was hardly _there_ for it, his mind and soul lost in the Force as he never had been before; it revealed secrets to him, nudged him here and there, _fixed_ him in a way he didn't think could ever be fixed.

And then... Ezra had fallen... twisted and seemingly broken on the lower levels and so _still_ , and he realized he had confronted his greatest fear – losing someone else – and there had been nothing left to fear after that. There was something out there more powerful than fear. The Force.

Since then, the Force had been... He wasn't sure what the word was. But he could do more, feel more. There was an ease there hadn't been before, and sometimes, very quietly, when he wanted to feel arrogant, he wondered if that trial hadn't made him a Jedi. The Force caressed him when he had that thought, and sometimes he thought he heard his Master's voice, soft-spoken as always, telling him not to worry so much, to trust himself and what he could do. He could hardly say he _trusted_ himself, he was still just an in-name-only Padawan after all, and even with the Force emotional baggage like his didn't just go away; but he could admit he had made progress, and that was what counted. Master Kenobi or Skywalker he was not, and he certainly wasn't Ahsoka, but he had finally stopped comparing himself to others.

More of the Force opened up to him, he felt very small, and the planet very big, and there, high above, was the Star Destroyer. He could feel very little of it, not even ill intent, just the faintest hint of presence. This was more than he had ever felt before in the Force, and he focused even further, listening to birds that were miles away, tasting rain in the air, feeling the undulation of the clouds.

Then a _shift_.

 _Kriff_.

"They're about to do something," Kanan said, realizing belatedly there was no one here to hear him. He stood up and grabbed his comm, repeating his message. "They're about to do something, I can't tell what. How are the repairs?"

" _Ten minutes!_ " Hera said. " _We just need ten minutes!_ "

" _Weapon systems aren't online,_ " Sabine said, " _What do we do?_ "

"Scramble!" Kanan grunted. "Finish as fast as you can. Whatever they're planning, we have to hope it's land based, that will give us time."

" _And if they decide to do an orbital bombardment?_ "

Kanan took a deep breath. The Force was with him, and he bowed to its will. "I'll buy us time." It wasn't really _him_ saying it, though, as his feet planted and his lightsaber ignited. The Force was vibrating in his body, the being known as Kanan Jarrus was but a tiny corner in this vessel. All that was really left was his training, and Form III was built for this: defense; one against many, deflecting attacks and conserving energy, waiting for the opponent to tire himself. Energy was coming at him, he could sense it, and he lifted his lightsaber, deflecting the shot with a sweep of his sword, the energy going elsewhere. There was a rumble at his feet, far away at the edge of his perception, but his mind was on the next blaster shot, and the next. He was performing a kata, back in the Temple, learning the Form with his Master, her patient, melodic voice shifting him as much as her hands and feet did. Less energy when you do _this_ , deflection for _that_ , and Kanan was smiling at the memory, unhindered by the bitter end of that part of his life. He was a youngling again, in the classic Soresu stances, moving energy away from him. Time was nothing, it was just the Force using his body, and he using his skills.

"Kanan, _what are you doing_?"

Ezra's voice snapped him back to reality, his eyes bursting open and looking around, confused. What?

The young teen was grabbing at his arm. "The repairs are done, we gotta go, stop being amazing!"

"What...?"

And then he felt it, the energy the Force had been showing him to guide. He turned around and looked up to the sky. Was that...? An orbital _bombardment?_ Oh, _kriff..._

He realized belatedly he was shaking, covered in sweat, exhausted by what he had done in the Force. Was it in him to deflect one more blast? He wasn't sure, but what else could he do? He grabbed Ezra and shoved him over the edge of the ship and braced himself, holding out a hand and begging the Force for help. His head was splitting in agony, concentrating was hard, and he struggled to keep calm as he realized the impossibility of what he was trying to do. If this didn't work...

He leapt off the ship, then used the Force to leap _away_ , south, trying to get distance between him and the ship in case this went bad, the Force pushing him in that direction. He reached up to the sky, remembering the Form III, the sensation of the Temple, the voice of his Master. Please, just this once.

He knew something went bad almost immediately, the energy turned, like he had wanted, but like an errant pupil he hadn't put thought into where it would go, and then the world exploded in white.

 _Ahsoka,_ he thought as his world disappeared, _take care of him. I'm sorry._

* * *

Ezra landed roughly in the red grass, but rolled to his feet as fast as he could and ran around the ship and up the ramp, running full tilt to the cockpit. Hera was there, grease and oil and fuel exhaust smearing her pale green skin. "Ezra! Where's Kanan?" she demanded.

"Did you _see_ it?" he countered. "He was up there blocking _orbital bombardment_! Can all Jedi do that? Will _I_ do that when I have enough training?" It had been an amazing sight. No, it had been an amazing _feeling_. He'd never felt Kanan so strongly in the Force, his presence was pulsing and throbbing, undulating and amazing to watch. The man went through simple kata forms, things he was trying to get Ezra to do with "efficiency and conservation, Form III is all about perseverance, not recklessness," and he made it look so _easy_ , and Ezra was in unabashed _awe_ as his simple motions made _orbital cannon fire,_ miles above, drift _just so_ , away from the freighter, away from the team. He couldn't even comprehend the amount of skill necessary to do that, and he wanted to learn it and learn it now!

" _Ezra!_ " Hera shouted. "Where's _Kanan_?"

"Still outside, he's-"

"He's in bombad _trouble_ ," Zeb said, his large purple frame hulking into the cockpit. "Look!"

All eyes snapped to the view portal, watching as Kanan moved further and further away, lightsaber still ignited, and skidding to a halt and hands reaching up to the sky. Ezra could feel his presence again, but it wasn't half as strong as before, and the serene calmness was no longer there. Ezra felt... was that doubt? "Something's wrong," he started to say, but the white streak of light that was the orbital bombardment fell from above, and Ezra felt the power _shift_ like before, but unlike before the shift faltered partway through, and everyone watched in acute horror as the orbital blast fell far too close to Kanan's position, bursting like all the others in a red and gold explosion of smoke, the shockwave rippling through the red fields and Ezra knew exactly which black spot flying through the air was his teacher's.

" _Kanan!_ "

He couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe the one guy in all the galaxy who'd seen him as someone of worth, who had such faith in him that he thought Ezra deserved a better teacher, the man who acted like... Not like this, not a second time! He couldn't handle the idea of losing another parent, couldn't conceive the fact that someone in the family would do something so horrifically _stupid!_ He reached out, trying to find his teacher, trying to feel if he was still alive. The worst hadn't happened, it really hadn't, it couldn't have, it-

"Chopper! Cut all power, turn everything off! Let them think the shelling work! Sabine, grab every bit of arsenal you have and detonate it around the hull, give us as many dings and scratches as you can! Zeb, open up the old smuggler holds, we have to hide! Ezra!"

"Kanan! _Kanan_! Hera, we have to-"

A greasy hand slapped him across the face, knocking him to his senses. " _Ezra_!" Hera shouted, and the young teen saw the ace pilot had wide, haggard eyes. "We need to hide or we can't help him!"

The logic was dim in Ezra's mind, but he was too numb to come up with a counterargument. He let himself be dragged by Zeb into the main cargo hold and into and old smuggler compartment. A smelly hand covered his mouth and he was wrapped in a tight embrace; only then did he realize his breathing was more like panting, and the tight embrace was more crushing as he strained against it, every instinct telling him to _get to Kanan's side now!_

"Calm him down!" someone hissed, but Ezra just knew that people were keeping him from Kanan and that was _unacceptable!_ There were explosions, but that didn't matter. _Kanan!_

Something hard cracked along the back of his skull, and he fell forward. The blood rushing to his head abated, and he could finally hear words. "Now shut up or you'll give us all away," Zeb's gravelly voice was muttering. His ears were still pounding, and the panic was still high in his chest, but he tried to make himself relax, tried to think about all the times he hid from the Buckets on Lothal, how to be still even when his heart was in his throat, the constant mantra, _I'm not here I'm not here I'm not here_ , and watching as the Buckets always turned away. _I'm not here I'm not here I'm not here_. He reached clumsily for the Force, remembering the sensation when he did his first mind trick, willing the two things together.

His mind slowly began to clear, the task he placed on himself taking over. He could hear Kanan in the back of his mind, a dozen lessons repeating over and over in his head. Focus. _Focus... focus... focus..._

An enormous hand squeezed his shoulder and he looked up to see Zeb still wrapped around him, eyes tense but not frenzied. The Lasat nodded once, and the waiting began.

Ezra knew all about waiting, of course; the streets were the _definition_ of waiting, waiting for the right moment to take the food, waiting for the right moment to sneak past the Buckets, waiting for the danger to pass, waiting for the trouble to subside. He closed his eyes, settling in for the wait, evening out his breathing as Kanan told him so often to do.

Kanan...

Little to no sleep for two days, stress, and now being emotionally wrung out with worry and just _waiting_ for the bombardment to stop... It didn't take much to push him to sleep.

It was morning when Zeb woke him. He was wrapped in warmth, body heat that wasn't his and a sense of security that was receding, making him reach out, hold onto that wonderful sense of safety. Mom... Dad...

Reality crashed into his head, though, and the truth woke him up more fully. Mom and Dad were dead, dead after hearing their son make a call across the galaxy. Now they were space knew where with an Imperial Super Star Destroy-

 _Kanan_!

Ezra shot awake, jerking to his feet but banging his head on the latch of the smuggler compartment. He grunted, rubbing his forehead before angling better and getting out of the crawlspace. "Kanan!" he said, his head peaking above the floor to follow Zeb. "We have to get to Kanan!"

"Priorities, kid," the Lasat muttered.

"Priorities?" Ezra parroted, aghast. "What's more important than rescuing _Kanan_?"

"Making sure we'll stay alive long enough to help him," Hera said, coming in from somewhere. She looked _terrible_ , like she hadn't slept at all the previous night. She probably hadn't, and Ezra found himself somehow guilty that he had. "Is Chopper online?"

"Yeah," Sabine said, brightly colored hair coming up from a different compartment. "He's with me in here. Says the storm's passed and the outside is a _mess_."

"And Kanan?" Ezra pressed, anxiety making his voice louder than it needed to be.

"Can't tell," she replied sadly, reaching for her helmet. "The planet's atmosphere makes life scans really difficult, remember? It's why we had two days to do repairs. Which we have to redo, now that I've unloaded all my explosives to make the orbital fire look convincing."

"But _Kanan_!"

"We need to scan to see if the Imperials are still here," Hera said tightly, " _then_ we get Kanan."

That wasn't anywhere near good enough.

* * *

Hera rubbed her face again, booting up the systems one at a time. Chopper was already plugged in, helping along. The night had been terrible, listening to the lightning and the wind and the hail, every crash making her jump thinking it was a droid to check for survivors, every rumble another shot from the orbital cannon. She hadn't slept, curled into a ball and praying for the best and silently preparing for the worst. Even now, her mind was outside, wondering if she would find a body or just pieces. She couldn't let Ezra out there, child warrior or not, some things a child just shouldn't see. One glance at Zeb let her know that the oldest of their crew knew what she was thinking, and he disappeared into the freighter to keep the kids corralled.

"Chopper, is the Star Destroyer still overhead?"

Negative chirps replied, and Hera allowed herself a sigh of relief. Now to other concerns. She got out of the seat and crouched down, pulling open a floor panel and pulling out a medkit. A single shot from a Star Destroyer cannon was a package of destruction that ripped holes in planet’s surface, craters of impressive size. Everyone had watched as the incoming shot fell from the sky, streaking through the ozone and leaving an impressive contrail in a sea of contrails from the other shots. And there, on the ground, far from the _Ghost_ , had been Kanan, swinging his lightsaber like he was teaching Ezra, and everyone watched as his actions were reflected on the shot miles above him, the streak shifting by noticeable degrees, affected by the Jedi's work. And then it exploded – for all intents and purposes – at Kanan's feet. The likelihood of her needing the medkit was close to nil, and for a moment she just started at it, wondering if she should give Ezra that much hope. But... Kanan had deflected orbital _bombardment_. He was a _Jedi_. She had seen what they could do during the Clone Wars. She had seen what _he_ had done.

Kanan was... special. A Jedi so broken from Order 66, she'd found him as a drunk womanizer, working odd jobs to keep the alcohol flowing. But buried under all that bravado, deep within the reckless cowboy, was the heart of a Jedi, no matter how shattered. Still trying to do what was right in anything that was directly in front of him. He had revealed himself to save her life and they had been together ever since. He affected the broken warrior so strongly he believed it himself most times, happy and almost eager to cloak his thoughts in survival, getting money for fuel, simple smuggling. So he wouldn't have to think back on his loss. But she knew him better. He worried more than any of them about their crew, kept up the beleaguered act to keep everyone happy, and quietly did everything he could to keep things going.

She _couldn't_ lose him.

Zeb was waiting for her outside the cockpit, his large hulking figure slouched forward in the narrow space and staring expectantly. "I don't want the kids to come with us," he rumbled, his gravelly voice quiet. "Don't want them to see what's left of him."

Hera nodded, her lekku shifting behind her head. "I agree."

They moved down the hall to the main cargo hold and lowered the ramp. The boundless red fields had been turned to ash, pits of upturned earth and craters from the Star Destroyer's cannons leaving ragged, open wounds in the planet. And for about a hundred feet around the _Ghost,_ there were only the nominal scorch marks of Sabine's ordinance; a rough circle free of injury, and their freighter in the center of it. Hera knew exactly how many megatons of power were packed in each shot of an orbital cannon. For Kanan to deflect them with the Force... She shivered. The Jedi were _inspiring_.

"So how do we find him?" Zeb asked, his violet frame an almost perfect match for the sky.

"You follow me," Ezra said, coming up from behind. His blue eyes were alight with something bright, determination, and he powered his way past, long strides taking him immediately to the edge of safety and then beyond, disappearing into a crater and never once missing a step.

"Ezra!" Hera said, jogging after him. "What are you doing?"

The boy turned around, nostrils flaring on his wide nose. "I can sense him," he said simply.

Hera _worked_ to not let her heart thrill. Kanan... She shook her head, stomping down the emotion, knowing he wouldn't be in good shape when they found him and it may be finding him just to say goodbye. She couldn't feel hope, not for this, not until she knew...

Faith. She needed faith.

"Zeb, get a speeder and a stretcher," she said. "Catch up to us and then pick us up."

"Roger that," the Lasat said, lumbering back up the ramp.

Hera followed Ezra down into the crater, her footing significantly less sure than the young teen's, down to the center and then up the far side. The kid didn't bother moving around the wounds on the ground, only through them, making a straight line to where his master was. Hera wondered if either of them used that word, "master." She knew Kanan visibly recoiled when she first called him that, "Master Jedi," said he wasn't worthy of the title, hadn't had nearly enough training to bear the title.

"I was only a Padawan for six months," he had said. "I'm still a child to the Force, I don't have a lot of technique, skill. I'm not... I'm not strong in the Force, not strong enough to be even called a _Jedi_ , let alone a _master..._ "

If this was what a _child_ could do with the Force, Hera thought, she had a _karabast_ hard time figuring out what a true master could do.

They were climbing up the second crater when Zeb caught up with the speeder, and the pair climbed on, Ezra in the middle and Hera in back. Ezra's eyes were only half focused, heavily lidded and barely responding to the world around him. Hera didn't have the sensitivity, but she could see power in those eyes, and Ezra pointed south, the direction they had been going. Zeb gunned the engine and they were off, hovering over the craters. Hera looked back, seeing the swath of destruction the Empire had wrought over just one freighter. Was this because of the rumored weapon? Or did they know Jedi were on the ship? Did that mean an Inquisitor? That dark creature on Lothal? She shuddered at the thought and turned around.

The speeder crested a shallow hill, and the craters faded away to other, lesser signs of damage, shallows of upturned earth from flying boulders, signs of a fire that the storm must have put out, a landing zone for all the rubble the cannon fire had created. The hill sloped down to a small stream, the water a dark purple contrast to the sky, speckled white from the rising sun.

"There," Ezra said, voice toneless, pointing upstream to a few of the thrown rocks and boulders. Zeb followed dutifully, and Hera felt her heartrate start to spike again, the realization of what she was about to walk up to hitting her over her lekku. She wanted Ezra behind her, to shield him from whatever they were about to see, to usher him back to the freighter now that they had found him. She felt the kid's body tense in front of her, heard a groan deep in his chest. "It hurts so much," he moaned, and Hera hugged him tightly.

"I know," she said. "I'm hurting, too."

"No... I mean... Kanan..."

"Got him!" Zeb said, and the bike skittered to the side to slid to a stop. There, behind one of the upturned boulders, was the body, and Hera's heart caught in her throat. He was... the body was blackened with earth and smoke, and she slid off the skid and darted over before she really realized what she was doing. She fell to her knees, green eyes drinking in the sight of him. Curled on his side, one foot in the water and an arm bent at an unnatural angle.

"Oh, love," she said, "Why'd you do it?"

She touched a shoulder, emotion threatening to overwhelm him, and she gently turned him on his back. His front was in even worse condition. His shoulder guard was mangled but it looked to have saved his arm from being only broken, instead of lobbed off wholesale, and his shirt was perforated with holes and bloody specks, the soil turning into shrapnel as it flew in every direction, littering his side and front, and an ugly looking gash ran from his hip to his knee, something colliding and nearly severing his leg. There was very little blood, which surprised Hera at first before she realized he had probably been killed almost instantly. Her eyes were blurry, her nose suddenly congested, and one gloved hand reached up to rub her face and the other placed a hand on the chest, where the heart was. Wait...

Her eyes snapped open, and she shoved her head to the Jedi's mouth, watching his chest and listening to his breathing. His _breathing..._

"He's alive!" she shouted. "Get me the medkit, we need to triage right away!" Training quickly took over, checking neck and spine, straightening him out, making sure airways were clear, trying to get his arm back in his socket. "Zeb!" She flipped on her comm, letting Sabine and Chopper listen as she started setting shoulders for the Lassat to yank.

"Got it." The giant Lasat crouched down, muttering in his native language, enormous fingers moving with unexpected gentleness before he gave a mighty _wrench_ , and Hera watched the arm pop back into place. Ezra grunted, but Kanan outright screamed, his eyes snapping open and a baritone howl leaving his lips. His head fell back, panting, before the pain registered and he groaned, trying to curl away from the injuries.

"Easy, _easy_ love, you're not ready to move yet," Hera said quickly, scissors cutting into his green sweater and cutting it open.

"Let me guess," he slurred, "This is somehow my fault."

It was such a _Kanan_ line that Hera laughed, a watery sound in her throat before she patted his good shoulder. "It's enough of your fault that we're going to owe you for months," she said.

" _Karabast_ , how are you still alive?" Zeb demanded.

Kanan grunted something unintelligible, eyes closing again, good hand reaching up for his chest. "Ribs," he said.

"I know," Hera answered. "Working on it. We can't bandage you yet until we get the shrapnel out, and that won't happen until we get Chopper. He's the only one with fine enough motor skills to do it."

Kanan made a face. "I'd rather have that gambler Calrissian operate."

"Okay, so clearly you're delusional," Hera quipped.

"Kanan?"

Ezra knelt by his teacher, bending over and into the Jedi's line of sight.

"Don't worry," Kanan said with a soft smile – more of a grimace, and a jolt of pain as Hera touched something sensitive. "Been through worse in the Clone Wars. Sometime I'll tell you about the Battle of-" He gasped, sucking in air fiercely and releasing it just as fast, coughing up bloody phlegm. He let out a low moan, face tight in a grimace as Hera tightened the tourniquet along the gash on his leg.

"Zeb, splints!"

"With what?" the Lassat growled, frustrated. "This planet is nothing but fields! No branches! And you didn't exactly bring splints when you grabbed the medkit!"

"Already on it!" Ezra shouted. They glanced over at the distinct _snaphiss_ of Ezra's lightsaber as he cut out supports from the speeder.

"Smart kid," Zeb rumbled.

Kanan was still panting, face twisted in pain. "E... ez... ra," he gasped.

The teen swiftly ran over, somehow hearing the soft call, dropping the supports and Zeb quickly started setting them for Hera to tie.

"I'm here, Kanan," Ezra said softly, once more kneeling by the Jedi's head and leaning into his line of sight.

"Can't... focus..." Kanan panted. "Need... help."

" _Anything_! Ezra promised. " _Anything_."

"Heal...ing... trance..."

"I don't know how to _do_ that! I don't even know what that is!"

"'s'okay..." Kanan gasped, sucking in another breath. "Just... gimme strength... Focus... focus on... light... green... water... air... warmth... things that... rebuild... then..." he coughed bloody phlegm again, and the pain seemed to almost send Kanan unconscious again.

"Then what!" Ezra shouted. "Kanan, stay with me and _explain_ all this Jedi stuff!"

"Hang on, love," Hera hissed. "We'll be heading back to the _Ghost_ in a minute."

"... then..." Kanan whispered, "then..." his eyes rolling back, "place... it..." But he was out of it, face tight in some strange cross of pure focus and absolute pain. "strength... give me... strength..."

Zeb growled. "Come on, Kanan! Stay with us!" then turned angry eyes to Ezra. "Kid! Do something!"

But Ezra didn't say a word, and Hera finally looked up from her patching and triaging, to see that Ezra was deeply focused, hands hovering over Kanan's head. Something of what the Jedi had said must have made sense to the Padawan. Else Ezra was doing nothing and stars only knew what would happen to Kanan.

She shook her head. Thinking that way was useless.

"Chopper," she spoke to the comm. "Be ready to use those grasping arms of yours," she ordered into her comm. "You'll be the one pulling shrapnel out. Sabine, start booting up the ships systems and fixing the error messages enough to get us flight-worthy; and get a secure line with Fulcrum. We'll need her expertise, as well as any medics that Commander Sato has available."

" _Already on it_ ," Sabine replied. " _Systems are up and I'm analyzing the diagnostics now._ "

Hera and Zeb carefully lifted Kanan onto the stretcher once Hera was done wrapping the worst of the wounds. She was shocked at the lack of blood, shocked still that he was still alive, but Jedi were notoriously hard to kill and she counted her blessings. Instead she took a deep breath and lifted, Zeb taking most of the weight and carrying him over to the bike, Ezra following with lidded eyes and a hand hovering over Kanan's heart. The ride back was slow but blissfully smooth, Zeb at the controls and Hera stroking her hand through the Jedi's askew hair, picking out flecks of dirt and feeling the rough, thick texture in her fingers. Sabine and Chopper were both at the ramp, and Sabine sucked in a breath to see Kanan in the state he was in. It took a lot of careful maneuvering to finagle him up the ladder to the sleeping compartments and setting him up on his bunk. Chopper was spinning and whirly, arm extensions flailing wildly as he complained bitterly over the assignment he had, but in contradiction to his curses he immediately got to work.

What they _really_ needed was a _bacta tank_ , but those were far and few between. Hera left the tiny space, anxiety thrumming through her body as she made her way back to the cockpit, Zeb at her heels as she checked the engines. The _Ghost_ hummed to her touch, and a dozen different messages and reports were still on the screen from Sabine's start, informing her of the damage of the Mandalorean's explosives. Almost all of it was superficial – Hera almost couldn't believe her luck, save that Sabine obviously know what she was doing.

She opened communications to see if they worked.

* * *

With Hera in the cockpit managing the ship and talking to anyone she could reach through the scrambling atmosphere, and Zeb rushing around to make last-minute repairs on her orders to get them off-planet and into lightspeed, Sabine took time to help Chopper with Kanan. As an artist, she had great dexterity within her fingers to get all the fine details. Early in her childhood she had experimented with miniatures, giving herself only a three-centimeter square and seeing what she could put inside. Landscapes, portraits, whatever came to mind. She had _never_ thought she'd be using the skills of her art like this. Using tweezers to pull out shrapnel embedded in the front and side of a _Jedi_.

This was _Kanan_.

He shouldn't be like this. He needed to be strong and beleaguered, ready to take the blame for anything with a grumbling complaint on how it wasn't really his fault. Her eyes watered and she scrubbed the moisture away with a wrist, going back to working out a rock. She focused on all the wounds that were open. Chopper worked on the ones that had been cauterized with a lightsaber that _still_ had debris lodged inside.

Why? Why _Kanan_? When Ketsu had left her for dead, focused more on the mission and the money, it was Kanan who had found her, pulled her to safety, kept her running long enough for Hera to pilot in for an amazing rescue. They had patched her up, listed out a bunch of options that they could do for her, and she had given her own. She would join them. Kanan hadn't asked for any compensation for saving her, he had simply done so and he and Hera were willing do to a lot to set her up for whatever she needed. _Without asking for anything_.

Sabine hadn't thought anyone like that was left in the galaxy.

So, she had joined their crew without question.

A grunt caught her attention, and Sabine immediately looked to Kanan. But his face was still pained and focused, unconscious.

"I... can't..."

Sabine stiffened, having forgotten that Ezra was hovering over Kanan in some sort of deep Jedi-focus thing. She looked up in time to see Ezra's eyes roll back and she quickly shifted to catch him as he completely collapsed, covered in sweat.

"Ezra! Ezra!"

Chopper started spouting many expletives at that point and Hera was rushing back, demanding what was wrong.

"Ezra collapsed!" Sabine stood as much as she could, trying to pull up the Padawan's dead weight. "Chopper, stay focused on Kanan!" she shouted, hefting Ezra as best she could out into the hall. Hera helped her and they got the Padawan into his room and onto Zeb's bunk. Sabine's eyes were misting again and she rubbed her wrists furiously against them.

"Come on, kid," she growled through her tears. "Don't do this now!"

"Ezra!" Hera shouted. "Wake up!"

With a hissed breath Ezra blinked, then grunted, reaching up to grip his head. "Uhhhrrrr... What...? Kanan!" He sat up swiftly, then fell forward, clutching his head. "Ahhhh..." Sabine dove forward and hugged him tight. It was all too much. Kanan down and she didn't dare think about whether he had a chance of living or not. Now Ezra was down and clearly hurt somehow. She didn't need this to happen to her family! Not after what happened to her first family! She couldn't lose anyone else. Not Kanan. Not Ezra.

"What happened?" Hera asked, gently pulling Sabine away to look Ezra in the eye.

"Tried to help him," Ezra slurred, holding his eyes tight and clutching at his head. "Healing trance... whatever that is. Gave him strength till I understood what he was doing. Then Kanan was... out of it and I just kept trying... Errrr, my head is splitting..."

Hera nodded. "Then meditate or something," she said. "That's what Kanan does when he overexerts himself. You'll be fine."

Ezra made a noise and curled to his side, tuning out the world. Sabine straightened, knowing she wasn't needed here anymore and moving back to the surgery. Zeb was at the door, towering over her before shaking his head. "Back to repairs," he said.

"But I was _just_ in there helping Chopper!"

Zeb's face slacked with shock to realize he had been fixing the ship alone, then horror to realize Sabine had been helping with the ad-hock surgery, and then furious. "Some things a youngling shouldn't see," he said, voice sober and low.

"I'm not a youngling," Sabine countered.

"You are on this ship," Zeb countered, green eyes dark. His feet were planted, and no matter how fast Sabine was, there wasn't enough maneuvering room to dodge around the hulking Lasat. She gave a long colorful opinion of his arbitrary decision before pounding to her room and shutting the door. This was followed quickly be a brutal punch to the wall, a perfectly formed kick, and several more punches until her knuckles were raw and broken from her effort. Mandalorian energy spent, she slid to her knees, gazed at her hands but not really seeing them. Need won out over desire, however, and she got back to her feet and moved to the engine room to handle repairs. Her mind was filled with the first time she had met Kanan.

Of the various members of the crew, Sabine understood Kanan the least. Hera, Zeb, Ezra, they were easy to figure out, she could understand their point of view, but Kanan was so _different_. He shied away from fights even when they were laughably easy, yet his various (often changing) plans were breathtakingly nonstandard, off the wall and reckless. He was the last one to start trouble but the first one to finish it. He said the _strangest_ things, and she never really knew his footing.

It wasn't until Hera had been hurt at Concord Dawn, the Mandalorians nearly killing her and Sabine wanting revenge while he insisted on finishing the mission for diplomacy, that it really came to a head. How did this guy expect to live as a _karabast pacifist_? And yet he snuck into the outpost and had an extended conversation with that damned Fenn Rau, talking to the slime that had hurt Hera so _badly_. But, like the Jedi of lore, he did the impossible and managed to get the passage. She couldn't understand how he did it.

She... she couldn't understand how he could take his pain – and as a Jedi he suffered more pain than anyone of the ship – and somehow still come out the other side of it. He never wallowed in it, he never let it consume him, and he had this distinct ability to take that pain and translate it to the pain of the _galaxy_ , of the _Empire_ , and use it to rally others to his cause. She wondered if it was a Jedi thing.

"I'm no one special," he had said, even after she found out who he was. "I'm just trying to get by. Like you. Like everyone else. The Empire has taken a lot from us, and will take a lot more if we let it. The question you need to ask yourself is: when will enough be enough? When will you get tired of having so much taken away from you that you have to draw the line? When will you lose enough that you have to fight to keep what's left? When you have that answer, come find us. We'll have a place for you."

She wanted to learn from him, learn to see the galaxy like he did, like he was teaching Ezra. Even if she didn't understand it. She wanted... She wanted her heart to be that big. Like Kanan. Like Hera.

* * *

Hera thought she was ready to collapse, but she promised herself she would once they were in hyperspace. After three engine checks, less than polite orders to Zeb and then Sabine, and _finally_ no more error messages, she pulled the _Ghost_ into the air, then the atmosphere, then – scanners constantly checking – out into space. The destroyer was nowhere in sight, and she carefully input the hyperspace coordinates and engaged the engine. Once the stars began to blur, she felt herself sag in her seat. She'd been up almost two and a half days straight, between the frantic repairs, the bombardment, and more frantic repairs. Chopper's surgery was still ongoing, and his blips and beeps indicated he wasn't happy with his work, covering his concern with being disgruntled over being saddled with the assignment to begin with.

Hera closed her burning eyes, reaching up and rubbing her forehead. Even her lekku hurt, and she breathed in deeply before exhaling everything out and repeating the process. Oh, she could fall asleep like this.

First thing's first.

She pulled herself back up to sitting and fired up the communication array again. Now that they were out of the atmosphere's distortion, she could contact the Rebel fleet.

To her surprise, Fulcrum was the one who answered.

" _What happened to Kanan?_ " the Togruta demanded.

Hera blinked, surprised. "How did you...? He's been hurt," she said instead. "The coordinates Commander Sato gave us, there was a Super Star Destroyer there, and we had to land on the planet. There was orbital bombardment and..."

" _And Kanan did something stupid,_ " Ahsoka replied. " _Just like my Master..._ " The small hologram turned, eyes filled with memory, before looking back to Hera. " _What's his status?_ "

"Arm's dislocated – not anymore, Zeb popped it in place – but it's broken, too. Every rib on his right side is either cracked or bruised, there's a huge incision in his leg, and his body is littered with shrapnel. We pulled out everything we could, but we just don't have the resources. We need a bacta tank for all the damage he sustained. It's a miracle he didn't bleed out in seconds of the blast. Ezra tried to do some kind of Jedi thing, maybe you would know."

" _Healing trance,_ " Ahsoka replied, hand unconsciously going up to touch her chin. " _My Master never had any skill for it, neither did I. Neither did Master Kenobi_. _I'm surprised he does._ "

"We'll be with the fleet in three hours," Hera said, unable to respond to the Jedi's knowledge. "Here's hoping the 2-1Bs can fix him without a bacta tank."

" _I'll look into it,_ " the former Jedi said. " _More than Kanan could use it._ "

* * *

Ahsoka turned off the comm, crossing her arms and looking over to Commander Sato. His angular face was creased with worry. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

Sato blinked, eyes darting to the Togrutan and pursing his lips. "It is selfish," he admitted, "But I do not want to lose Jarrus. He is a valuable fighter and as a Jedi a powerful symbol of hope to the Rebellion."

Ahsoka smiled, softly. "Not every day you meet someone who rewrites impossible on a regular basis."

Sato shrugged his shoulders. "I remember the Clone Wars," he said. "The Jedi feats on the Holonet... and the younger generations, they do not understand the stories, think it is little more than exaggeration. Hokey religion."

"I know," Ahsoka said, hearing everything he didn't say. "Let's see what we can do to remedy that, shall we?" She opened up the galactic map, projecting it over the circular command table. "We need a bacta tank."

From there it was all discussion on where to procure one, who would go on such a mission, what sort of intel was needed for various facilities, the lists and questions went on and on. Debates, heated and old, flew. Ahsoka let it all wash over her, studying the map.

Kanan.

She had known all about him before meeting him, Hera keeping her up to date on everyone in the cell. A Jedi who had been a mere initiate when she had left the Temple for good. Hera often offered keen insights in frustrated moments, but Ahsoka hadn't met him until she had revealed herself. After his hellish time under the Inquisitor's hands with hours of Tarkin's torture and the Dark Side swamping him. The fact that he was upright and walking, despite the heavy exhaustion that lined his face, spoke to just how much of the Force he had been relying on at the time. There had been something in his bearing, in his quiet presence in the Force, that had made Ahsoka realize that Kanan had finally gone from an initiate with barely any Padawan training, to having gone through Trials and having become a Knight. He may not have the technique or finesse of a seasoned Jedi, even the deeper knowledge, but he was a Knight all the same.

He hadn't believed her when she'd told him. That was unsurprising given the scars he still carried from the Purge, and his own tendency towards self-doubt. Since then, however, he acted more like a Jedi – his priorities were more consistent, his plans more tailored to using the Force; he was more comfortable with himself. He had grown from Hera's tagalong to her partner to the pseudo-leader of his cell, and he wore the mantle well.

_Ahsoka, take care of him. I'm sorry._

The words had struck her hard yesterday, walking down the white hall of the Rebel flagship, _Liberator_ , and it was everything she could do to finish her task before diving to the communications array to find out what had happened.

Ezra... could she take him as a Padawan? She hardly felt like a Jedi, not after how she left, not after the hurt she had gone through. Oh, she had come into her own, and she was proud of what she had become, but... she hadn't thought herself a Jedi for a very long time. And she'd never _taught_ anyone before, not about the Force, not about its secrets and pulses and subtlety.

But... Kanan had asked, and she would do so.

She looked at the holomap, and felt a nudge from a thing greater than herself. "There," she said, pointing to a midrim planet. "We can get the bacta tank there."

"I don't know that system," Commander Sato said, frowning.

"There was a battle there during the Clone Wars," Ahsoka said. "Separatists attacked and a medical frigate crashed into the planet before help arrived. Its atmosphere was too dangerous to excavate the wreck, but there've been some small advances in technology in the last fifteen years. Some of the new breathers can filter the atmosphere and we can see if there are any remains of the ship – and the bacta tanks – there to recover. Space knows I don't relish stealing from a functioning medical station."

"Agreed," Sato said. "I'll see what intel we have on that planet."

Ahsoka kept herself busy waiting for the _Ghost_ to come out of hyperspace, reading in the new squadron that had to look into the rumored weapon that had sent the crew of the _Ghost_ into the dire straits they were in, calling Bail Organa to let him know what had happened, and so on. Sato had been right, Kanan being a Jedi was an incredible symbol – kept under their lekku for now, but too valuable to let bad things happen. Bail didn't have the right connections to get a bacta tank, as Ahsoka had feared, and so the backup plan for salvage was now their lead plan.

She sensed the crew exit hyperspace, and finished up with her latest meeting before going down to the ports and watch the light freighter dock. The Togruta closed her eyes and reached out with the Force. Kanan's presence was weak, but the Force seemed to concentrate around him, trying to favor its child. Ezra was there, too, his emotions readable even from this distance: the worry, the anxiety, the _fear_ , and Ahsoka pursed her lips, knowing what she needed to do.

The younglings were the first out of the ship, ready to grab anyone to help, but Ahsoka was there already with a pair of 2-1B surgical droids, and the towering Orrelios moved them aside with a clawed hand, making way for Ahsoka and the medical droids to come in and take care of the injured Jedi. Hera came the other way, from the cockpit, and Ahsoka saw everything on her face before the two women went into Kanan's room.

The droids whisked him off to surgery, Hera answering all the questions, Chopper supplying anything she didn't know. A glance at the Lasat showed that he wanted to be alone, the Mandalorean as well, and so Ahsoka grabbed Ezra's shoulder.

The youngling looked up with wide blue eyes, face completely broken.

"Come with me," she said simply, and turned and left, expecting him to follow. The pair went deep into the starship and into an unused conference room. Ahsoka sat on the floor and motioned for Ezra to do the same. She waited.

The boy fidgeted, shifting every few seconds or so, eyes going everywhere, mind in only one place. "Why are we here?" he asked.

"To wait," she replied.

Ezra made a face, swaying back and forth, body filled with energy. Ahsoka by contrast was perfectly still, eying him through lidded eyes, deliberately irritating him, as Master Obi-Wan so often did with Master Anakin, as Anakin had so often done with her. The youngling threw his eyes at her several times, huffing first, then sighing, then making more aggressive noises, before the energy finally built up and he exploded.

"What are we _doing_?" he demanded. "We have to be with Kanan!"

"And what will we do there?" she asked, completely unflustered by his impatience, by his fear. "We would wait there just as we would wait here. Here there is quiet, and here we can concentrate."

"Concentrate on _what_?" the youngling hounded, "There's nothing to concentrate on! Kanan's hurt, and hurt badly!"

"And why does that bother you?" Ahsoka asked, eyes almost closed. "Why is there better than here?"

"Because it's closer to _Kanan_!"

"And what does proximity give you?"

"Peace of mind, Ahsoka!" Ezra was almost shouting now, his frustration completely overtaking him. He did not leave, however, Kanan had instilled enough discipline for that, and the Togruta wondered idly if he sighed for gaining that much ground as her Master had with her. Ezra stood, pacing about the conference room, trying to expel his energy. "I can be there if he needs me! I can't if I'm all the way over here!"

"What is distance to a Jedi?" she asked, voice still level, calm. The questions slowly wormed into Ezra's mind, making him frown at her, confused and curious but still so anxious. "A Master/Padawan bond," she explained, "transcends distance. The Force has connected you, and that connection is invisible, intangible, it binds you as the Force binds all living things. The Force will tell you when you need to go to him, the Force will tell you when it's time to move, the Force will tell you if you must let him go."

Ezra recoiled at the very thought, his presence spiked, passion burned in his signature.

Ahsoka stated the obvious. "I sense fear in you, Ezra Bridger."

"I'm not afraid."

"Your thoughts betray you," the Togruta said. "Your Master fills your mind, as does the image of your parents. I see you in front of a fire, learning the truth of their fate, and feel a warm embrace."

Ezra lost all color, and for a brief moment he stilled, shocked, before he tried to deny again. "I'm not afraid of anything!"

"I see a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder, a painfully honest confession of being unworthy to teach you, I see an Inquisitor striking Kanan down, over and over."

"Stop..."

"I see you flying away, leaving him behind, and at last realizing what you really feel."

"Stop...!"

"I see your face when you found him after the torture, I feel the pain you felt when you realized he could barely walk, and how close you he came to-"

" _Stop it!_ "

The Force hummed with Ezra's emotion, the conference table shoving to one side and the seats skittering away. Ahsoka held up a hand, the push gliding past her as she asked the Force that she continue her lesson. "Fear," she said again, her voice still calm, Ezra looking out over what he had done in lost surprise. "You are afraid."

"Yes, yes, okay?! Yes!" Ezra said, his voice cracking and his eyes filling with tears. "I'm afraid! I don't want to lose him. I lost my parents, I lost Lothal, I don't want to lose him, too. He was the first one who ever _saw_ me, on the streets, he was the first one after my parents that thought I could amount to anything, let alone a _Jedi_ , he..."

"He is as your father," Ahsoka said. "Like Master Plo was for me. You are attached to him. He is family."

"Yes," Ezra said, slumping to the floor, cross-legged. "I don't want to lose him..."

"Nobody does," she said softly, finally allowing some warmth into her voice. "We're doing everything we can. The rest is up to him."

Ezra looked up, and the youngling was so _lost_. Ahsoka reached over and touched his shoulder, but he turned away from the touch. Ahsoka didn't need the Force to understand his reluctance. A life on the streets was hard for anyone, let alone a youngling, barriers needed to be created to just survive, distance from everyone in order to stay safe. There was an instinctual need to protect whatever one had; clothes, personal items, food, to clutch onto the things desperately before anything else was taken away. Kanan, the crew of the _Ghost_ , they belonged to Ezra, and he would not let them go so easily. Each one had slowly transcended every barrier he erected, they got close to him, and he finally let them in. This was further compounded by seeing them all as family, by connecting to them on a level that objects couldn't compare to. And it was compounded _further_ by him being a Force-sensitive child.

In this moment he was so like her Master that she smiled, and she leaned back and let him have his barrier. This would not be an easy road for him, and she could not force the change inside himself he needed to make, but she would not do be impotent, either.

"Fear is a dangerous emotion for a Jedi," she said. "Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. Your fear stems from your passion, and an emotion that strong naturally calls out to the Force. But Ezra, the Force does not respond well to such a call."

"... What do you mean?" the teen asked. His voice was broken, and his body listed to the side. Now that he had confessed his emotion it had drained all the energy inside of him.

She considered how to answer, wondered if he was ready to learn about the Dark Side yet. His training was only months long, there was only so much that could be covered but... she would spare him this truth for a little longer. She went in a different direction.

"Would you be able to let him go?" she asked instead. "Not here, necessarily," she added quickly when she saw his face, "But later. In the future. Kanan has already sacrificed himself once for the greater good, and it is the way of the Jedi to do so again. Could you accept that? Could you let him go?"

Ezra's visible shaking answered her question, and she reached out again. He didn't shy away from the touch this time, too lost in his own fear to process the intrusion, and Ahsoka took the liberty of wrapping an entire arm around his shoulders. He was cold after touching the Dark Side, would be cold for hours yet until he got his fear under control. "It is the hardest lesson for a Jedi to learn," she said softly. "Even my Master struggled with it. Even I struggle with it. There is a difference in how you love someone."

The youngling's face was hidden by his thick mop of hair, but his head turned slightly, listening. "You can love someone for yourself," she said, "Or you can love someone for them. To love someone for yourself is to love them for what they do for you, for how they make you feel, for them being in your life. It is a love that keeps you near them, you are attached and you see that person as 'yours,' and to lose what is yours is to receive an injury to your person. That kind of love, it revolves around _you_ rather than the other person. To love someone for them, is to love them for who they are and what they do, it is to love them because of who they are as a person. You respect their decisions, even if and when it takes that person away from you. To lose them is to accept that it was time for them to go, and that the Force will take them."

Ezra was shaking again, bringing his knees up and burying his face in them. Ahsoka felt another nudge, and knew she had said enough. Any more and he would shut down completely.

For hours, she simply held him.

Sato contacted her when the surgery was done, and Ahsoka got up slowly, the boy asleep. Zeb was there, and he picked up the youngling easily and carried him off. She nodded to Sato, and gestured, asking the Force to undo the minor damage Ezra had wrought.

"Did he wake up at all?"

"No, but given his injuries that is no surprise. Nobody seems to understand how he survived."

"The Force," Ahsoka replied. "The Force prevented him from bleeding out, and he cauterized the worst of the damage that he could reach, and he went into a Healing Trance. What surprises me is that he was able to do any of that. Kanan always said he was never strong with the Force, but his presence has grown considerably over the last few months."

"Well, he is stable for now. The medical droids said he will be down for the count for quite a while. Recovery will be months without a bacta tank."

"All the more reason to find one. Zeb will be the one to talk to."

"The Lasat? Not Captain Syndulla?"

Ahsoka smiled. "She'll want the mission, too, but we should probably give her a minute, first."

Sato smiled then, soft and genuine and rare. "You saw it, too."

Ahsoka said nothing; she didn't need to.

Sato disappeared to read Zeb into the mission, and Ahsoka made her way to their makeshift medical bay. The 2-1B surgical droids were gone, but one Twi'lek was sitting by her partner's side. The C1 droid was there as well, for once quiet in a corner. Ahsoka approached slowly, softly, aware that this was a very intimate space for the two. Hera looked up slowly, her green eyes hollow from exhaustion, but she smiled.

"They said he's stable for now," she said.

"I heard."

"I guess the rumors are true," she said weakly, "That Jedi are notoriously hard to kill."

"We are a stubborn breed," Ahsoka said with a smile, looking down at the battered Kanan. The Force was not as strong now, letting its vessel heal on its own, moving to do other things. Ahsoka reached up, touching his forehead. "Even more so these days."

"Can – could – all Jedi do what he did? Block orbital bombardment like that?"

"It's hard to say," the Togruta answered. "When the Force needs us, we become but vessels for its will, and in those times, we are capable of phenomenal feats. Master Obi-Wan often said that my master rewrote the definition of impossible every other day. When I look back, I did some amazing things during the War..." Protecting Senator Amidala from a bounty hunter, finding Master Plo when the _Malevolence_ destroyed his ship, surviving all the times she fought Ventress, the Blue Shadow Virus, the Temple bombing... she shuddered. Some memories still hurt, even after all this time.

She looked over to Hera, still looking at her partner with such emotion on her face. She looked to Kanan, blanket up to his collarbone and a myriad of bandages peaking up underneath, brown hair askew and so long.

"Don't let him shrug this off," she said suddenly.

Hera looked up. "What?"

"Don't let him shrug this off," Ahsoka repeated. "Don't let him think what he did was nothing, don't let him say that he did what he had to do. He needs to value himself, and moments like this should be rewarded."

Hera smiled, gloved hand reaching out to touch her partner's. "I won't," she said. "None of us will."

Ahsoka nodded, and for a while the two women watched him sleep.

* * *

Hera watched the Rebel leader leave before turning back to Kanan. "She's not wrong, you know," she said. "You never give yourself much credit, even with training the kid. You've done some amazing things since I've known you, and I wonder sometimes if we don't always tell you that.

"You said once that I was the heart of this team. You said that if anything happened to me that we would all be lost. Well, I want you to know: if I'm the heart, then _you_ , love, are the soul. The kids have no idea how lucky they are to have a mentor like you, a conscience and a signpost, someone to aspire to be."

Her eyes burned suddenly, and she scrubbed at them with rough gloves, determined to allow herself this moment. "You inspire so much in all of us," she said, voice watery. "We're more than we were because of you. _I'm_ more that I was. I don't think I could have talked to my father before I knew you. You've made me a better person, and once in a while you should know that."

Kanan just lay there on the gurney, unmoving and unconscious, battered and a little broken. It was worse, seeing him like this, in a way. When he'd been captured by the Inquisitor, just _missing_ , it was easier to trick oneself. Now she saw every injury, had _treated_ every injury. She knew exactly how broken he was after that stunt, and she knew exactly what his chances were.

"I don't think I ever told you," she said. "None of us wanted to admit it, but I was going to leave you to the Inquisitor, to Moff Tarkin. I didn't want to, but Fulcrum said that the hope you had created with that broadcast, the hope of Ezra's voice, it couldn't be risked. I never hated keeping things from you guys more than that moment, because I had to tell the others that we were leaving you, and I had to make it _my_ decision. Something broke inside me when I did that, I lost a piece of myself to give that order. And in the end, it was moot because Ezra just swooped in and took the reins. I was so mad and so relieved at the same time. I yelled at Ezra, and he just said that we were family, and that we couldn't lose any more family, and I was never so proud of him as in that moment. He looked just like you. And that was when I realized..."

The words caught in her throat, and she blinked, realizing her cheeks were wet. Hera put her head in her hands, shoulders shaking as emotion swept over her.

Hera wasn't sure when the change happened, when he went from semi-wayward tagalong to competent help to partner to this, but he touched so many pieces of her life. He did small things, bringing her caff during a long trip, putting a hand on her shoulder to offer support, sometimes just sitting next to her, hunching over the dejarik table planning a strategy. He had been the one to get her to go on the mission to field test the new blade-wings, had pushed her into it to prevent her emotional loss of so many of Phoenix Squad making her do something stupid. He was the one who recommended her to be Phoenix Leader, who suggested diplomacy with the Mandaloreans. He even stuck around the Rebellion, even though war had hurt him so deeply. From womanizing cowboy to the Jedi that he had buried so deeply inside him, and somewhere along the way she stopped calling him "love" as an endearment and instead as...

She couldn't admit it yet, not when the Rebellion needed her so badly, not when there was so much still to do. But he needed to know, she needed to tell him, just once.

She looked back to the door, but no one was there. Chopper was powered down, cells recharging. Nobody was watching.

She took a breath, and stood up, leaning over, and placing her lips softly on his, letting herself feel this way, letting herself acknowledge this piece of her heart.

"Get well, soon, love," she said. "I'll see what we can do about making that happen even faster."

* * *

Zeb scowled at the holograms, eyes narrowed as he swiveled the image again to get another angle.

Since arriving at the fleet, Ahsoka had taken one look at Ezra and dragged him off to discuss ancient religions and Hera and Chopper were staying diligently at Kanan's side, giving a play-by-play of injuries, when they had occurred, how bad they were, what had been done to triage, etc, etc. Sabine had almost stayed with them till Zeb had pulled her aside and stated bluntly that they needed more explosive ordinances.

"Zeb," she hissed, glancing to the retreating figures of Hera and Kanan, "how can you think of _explosives_ at a time like this?"

"Because we're going to need them," he said in a low menacing voice.

Sabine had blinked, eyes widening, then her smile was downright malicious. Mandolorians always did love the concepts of revenge. Granted, Zeb knew he was probably going to have to explain what he really had in mind, and she might not care for the more indirect nature of it, but it had her scampering away, muttering about a masterpiece. It would keep her busy.

With everyone appropriately scattered and occupied, Zeb had immediately gone to start investigating about bacta tanks, where to get them, what was needed to steal them, schematics of what parts were necessary and what could be salvaged or adapted from other supplies easier to find. Sato quickly learned what he was up to and brought him in to briefings and showing the intel they already had so far.

Tano was _good_. The target was an old Clone Wars _MedStar_ frigate that had been stationed in orbit over a gaseous planet. The Old Republic had trusted that since it was a hospital ship, it would be left alone by the Separatists, but some battle historical something-or-other had happened and the station had crashed into the gases below. The atmosphere of the planet was incredibly toxic, and even the most advanced filters of the time couldn't guarantee clean oxygen for any sort of extended time to salvage anything. There had been talk of sending droids down for the salvage, but the war had left the Republic strapped for credits and other things were more important, like just building more ships and growing more clones. It had been forgotten.

Which was perfect. Scans from recon were already coming back from scouts that Sato had sent out, and Zeb was studying the lay outs and likely places where bacta tanks would be, especially after the crash, and how to approach.

He scowled even harder.

He hadn't done this kind of planning since his time in the Honor Guard, and it was bringing back unhappy memories. There was a _reason_ why he let Kanan do all the planning and didn't question too much. Going through this, trying to figure out how to best utilize the crew of the _Ghost_ and their various abilities, knowing that there might be danger on planet and his positioning might lead to harm...

Zeb shook his head. He'd lost his people. He wouldn't lose his family to. He just needed to double check and triple check _everything_.

Which was part of the problem. For all that he teased Kanan relentlessly on how the plans kept changing, Kanan had an inspiring amount of trust in their ability to adapt and adjust accordingly. Zeb had that trust as well, but he wasn't sure he had it in him anymore to call the shots that might put them all in danger. It had been his biggest failure in the Honor Guard. His orders had led to the death of _everyone_. When he'd been wandering alone after all that loss, he'd made sure that he only had to worry about himself. So that he wouldn't lead others to their deaths again.

Then Kanan had found him.

Zeb had been in the middle of a brawl that had ended up sending Imperials to break it up, and Zeb couldn't quite hold back his anger. He'd just kept pounding and pounding at the Stormtroopers, embarrassing them in that a whole squad couldn't even get one hit on him. But when reinforcements had arrived, he'd been in way over his head. Then there was suddenly cover fire, a distraction that had the Bucketheads turning and attempting to reorganize, which gave Zeb a chance to slip away. The two of them had led the Empire and a wild chase through the streets, and Zeb had laughed at the freedom of it. Laughed for the first time in _years_. He'd offered to be some muscle on any job that Kanan had in mind.

One month later, Hera had approached him, offering him a spot of work, and he'd happily agreed. He'd been with the crew ever since, relishing the chance to stick it to the Empire. Kanan was still in charge, since he had a better understanding of their abilities, Zeb being the new crewmate after all, and Zeb had never felt freer. All he had to worry about was being in position and trouncing Buckets as needed and wanted. He had been worried that on each mission, the closer he got to Hera and Kanan, that he might start feeling that heavy weight of worry. He would need to leave if that happened.

But to his delighted surprise, the two had proven capable beyond what he'd thought possible. Hera was a skilled pilot, getting them out of jams he'd thought impossible, and by usually staying on the ship where she had the most protection and the most skill, he hadn't _needed_ to worry. And Kanan... Well, Kanan seemed to pull himself out of problems with an almost casual ease, being the quickest draw with a blaster that Zeb had ever found and sometimes just seeming to _know_ what to change and when. It wasn't until after he'd come back to the _Ghost_ with Sabine and she'd been part of the crew for a month or so when they'd been on a mission and Kanan was suddenly _there_ , blaster firing, kicking, and both Sabine and Zeb had watched when Kanan had simply reached and a blaster had suddenly ripped from a Stormtrooper's hand and Kanan was firing, guns akimbo, to give them cover as they retreated.

Both Zeb and Sabine had had some _very_ pointed questions. But Kanan had begrudgingly answered, eyes dark in memory in a way that Zeb understood with far too much clarity. Zeb had never questioned again after that. He had a good understanding of just what a Jedi could do, and knowing that Kanan could sense things even beyond what the Lasat could do, just took a weight off of his shoulders.

Then Kanan had been taken by the Inquisitor, and Zeb had been left questioning his place. The orders came to leave Kanan behind and it made his stomach churn. He had started looking into ways to get the Jedi back, but then Ezra just took charge. That had also made his stomach churn, because children shouldn't be leading fights, Jedi or not. But Ezra was connected to the Force and had a better chance of finding and getting Kanan.

Now though...

Now Zeb would take charge. He may not understand the Force, he may not have any clue of what Ezra could really do with it or how to plan with it, but he would use his tactical training, use his time in the Guard, use the skills he'd been neglecting for _years_ , to get this mission done.

Because he wouldn't let the kids take the lead for this.

This would be his mission.

So, he would make _plans_.

When the rest of the crew arrived, Zeb had everything laid out and ready. Hera recognized what they were about to do and immediately smiled, tension easing out around her eyes. Chopper let out quite a few grumbles and complaints and quickly hooked in to the computers, reviewing the plans.

"Uh," Ezra said, raising a brow and leaning forward, "what's this?"

"A _MedStar_ medical frigate," Zeb replied.

"And?" Ezra added.

But Sabine was scowling. "You said we were going to get them _back_!"

"No," Zeb growled back. "I said we were going to need your explosives. And we will."

"But-"

"This frigate," Zeb growled right over her, "should have bacta tanks."

Both kid's eyes lit up.

"Now," Zeb continued, "it's crashed on a planet with air so toxic that it's only been in the last ten years or so that we've been able to get rebreathers that can process the gunk without having to go down with oxygen tanks. They're standard issue now for most ships. In fact, we already got some."

The kids smiled wide, now studying the holo closer.

"The crash looks severe," Sabine said, artistic eye already noting all sorts of details. "And it's in the side of a mountain, almost completely sideways. It'll be a miracle if we can get anything intact in there."

"Medical bays were always the most defended part of hospital ships after any armories," Hera explained. "That way survivors could be found if a frigate became nonfunctional."

"And as long as we have the tank itself, we can scrounge parts for interfacing or replacing circuit boards," Ezra added, leaning in. "But balance is really going to be difficult. Can we even land the _Ghost_?"

Zeb shook his head. "No, we can't. Hera will have to stay in orbit and offer support as needed. We should be able to land the _Phantom_ here," a taloned finger pointed to a small bluff, a hundred meters up from the station itself that would be just wide enough for the _Phantom_ to land and for them to exit. It would be incredibly tight. "We can rappel down from there into this opening here," he pointed to a caved in section of hull, likely from whatever historical whatsits caused the station to crash in the first place.

"Do we have schematics of the interior?" Sabine asked, already taking notes like the good student she was.

"Yeah, and if they're wrong, we have Chopper to plug in for the layouts."

The droid grumbled his ascent.

"All right," Hera nodded. "We have a lot to discuss. I'll get us into hyperspace and we can talk on the way. Chopper, are the coordinates input in the mainframe?"

Chopper growled back.

"Good. Let's get going, review our plans, then get some sleep. We haven't had a lot of rest and we're going to need all we can before we go excavating that wreck."


	2. Chapter 2

The planet's name was Rafatsum III, deep in the midrim, somewhere between Kashyyk and Bathawui, well beyond the furthest branches of the Corellian Trade Spine. Yellowish green gases gave the planet a sickly color, a green tornado visible from space spinning around on the far side of the planet; it had four moons and one very thin ring spinning around its poles. Hera put the _Ghost_ in orbit and Sabine and the others flew down on the shuttle, revealing under the cloud banks a landscape of rocks and little else. Buttes rose up from the ground, wide and thick and spanning miles, their edges lined with the wear of wind erosion. Everything had a yellowish tint because of the atmosphere, and color was hard to determine, much to Sabine's displeasure.

The _MedStar_ was a massive ship, fish-like in design, more streamlined and smoother than the Rebel flagship. Its back tail served as the port for ships to dock, and its main body held the medical facilities. Large enough to hold a crew of over four hundred and able to carry over six hundred passengers, it lay tail-up spanning two buttes. The incline was nearly seventy degrees, the tail-port sticking out partially amputated in the air and the poor ship's body leaning precariously on the second butte. An ill-timed sneeze would send it crashing to the ground, causing even more damage than it had suffered in the landing. Holes punctured the entire ship, vines and other signs of wildlife hanging out of the vessel. Creaking could be heard even on the shuttle.

Zeb had come up with the plan, and it sat uncomfortably on everyone's shoulders, because Zeb wasn't _Kanan_. But someone had to fill that void and the Lasat had volunteered, and Sabine promised herself she wouldn't criticize everything he was doing when he laid it out.

On flimsy, it was a good plan. Zeb was in charge of the salvage sled to maneuver anything they found, Ezra took point, and Sabine covered their rear. Chopper would ride on the sled until they found a serviceable port for him to jack in to and scan the ships layout. They already had the schematics, but the ship computers would give them a better assessment of what was safe and what wasn't. With Hera in orbit, Sabine flew the shuttle down and set the auto-pilot.

When Zeb had said they'd have to rappel down, Sabine hadn't realized just how steep it was. It wasn't like she was afraid of heights or anything, one didn't go crisscrossing the galaxy with nothing but openness and the void of space around you if one had any kind of fear like that. But looking almost straight down to the _MedStar_ hospital reminded Sabine that she didn't have a rocket pack and that one-hundred meters could be a long way down. Chopper had his rocket, so he didn't have to worry about his descent, Zeb's entire species was built around climbing, and Ezra was hopping down with a clear sense of just where his footing was in some of the loose shale and crevices. The sharp winds didn't help either, strong enough that she felt like she needed to lean into the wind just to stay upright.

And frankly, the hospital didn't look that inviting at all, and _no_ that wasn't just the memories of meeting the Seventh Sister and Fifth Son in a similarly derelict medcenter. The station had landed on its side at a steep angle and the damage was _far_ more extensive than the last hospital they'd salvaged. Honestly, she wasn't sure they'd be able to even _find_ any bacta tanks.

Another gust of wind sent her struggling to keep her grip and more of the sickly yellow fog that made the air so hard to breath and everything hard to see swirled by. Sabine only relaxed when the wind died, going from her struggling to her only straining to keep her grip. She double checked the filter hose she'd had to fit into her helmet, and checked the powerpack on her belt, which was going to become a compulsion if she kept looking every few minutes.

But she had a job to do as rear guard. She looked around, checking the readouts in her helmet, and resumed her descent, taking a leap into open, windy gas to drop another dozen feet and check her footing. The hole in the hull that Zeb pointed them to was ten meters from the cliffside, and once Sabine got her feet under, she let out a silent breath of relief, leaning into the wind to stay upright.

Zeb, the hulking brute, didn't even seem to flinch at the winds, easily pushing the salvage sled to the hole that was five meters in diameter. More ropes were set up to both get Sabine and the sled down there, but also back up with a bacta tank or two. Ezra and Chopper were already inside and Sabine let a chill go through her.

She was glad to be getting a bacta tank. Not just because the fleet needed them, but because _Kanan_ needed one. But it wasn't what she wanted to do. When Zeb had told her to get more explosives, she had already started planning the colorful, cacophonic masterpiece she was going to create in the stardestroyer that had shelled them. That's where she _wanted_ to be. Getting revenge on any who would hurt her family, her clan. Going after the _cause_ of her hurt and pain. It was in her Mandolorian blood.

But that would go against one of the things she found most puzzling with lessons that Kanan was trying to teach them.

Forgiveness.

Kanan bore many scars, both physical and emotional, from the Clone Wars, there was no doubt there. And while she had never gotten a full story about his absolute distaste for the clones, she had seen him sit down and forgive Rex, forgive the other clones, and let go of all the bitterness that whatever had happened had caused.

She didn't understand. She _couldn't_ understand.

How does one forgive?

But when she'd run into Ketsu again, Sabine thought she might understand a little of what forgiveness was. She would never forgive the Empire. But she wondered if the Mandalorian way of holding grudges might have gone too far. Just…. How did Kanan forgive?

"Ready, Sabine?" Zeb asked quietly.

She nodded, scanning the area again.

The Lasat nodded and leapt easily down into the hull. Sabine took hold of the rope and followed. She wanted to get a bacta tank or two and be out of here. Creepy hospitals just weren't her thing.

* * *

Ezra eased his way forward, adjusting the hose of his rebreather mask. The halls were pitch black, the sickly yellow gas of outside filtering out so much light that nothing could be seen. He quickly turned on his lightsaber, and Chopper already had his light on. Sabine turned on a helmet mounted light once she was inside and Zeb had lights set up on the salvage sled.

It was eerie, and so very familiar of the abandoned Republic hospital that Ezra couldn't quite hold back a shudder. He wouldn't be racing against Zeb this time. He wouldn't be joking or snarking. He had one goal, and one goal only. Get a bacta tank. Get it and get back as quickly as possible. Nothing else mattered.

_Kanan..._

Ezra shook his head. The Force was supposed to be able to guide him, so that's what he needed. He just needed to reach for the Force, focus like Kanan was always telling him, let it guide him.

Kanan just _couldn't_ die.

He took a deep breath, raising his lightsaber higher and looking around. Since the hole they came in had clearly come from some sort of fire barrage, most of the surrounding area was damaged. They'd have to get further into the frigate to find anything accessible. The damage was just too extensive.

"We're going to have to get moving," he said into the comm built into the mask.

"We can see that, kid," Zeb growled.

With the ship on its side they walked along on the walls, the original ceiling and floors making for the new walls of the hallway. The yellow gases of the planet had clearly penetrated into the interiors, and between the yellowish tinge and the blue of Ezra's lightsaber, everything looked almost sickly green. They started easing over the debris that covered the hall, clearing what they could to the side to make it easier for the salvage sled to get through, especially later when the sled would be weighed down by a bacta tank. Zeb used some of his muscles for moving the junk and debris, while Ezra focused on the Force, clearing a solid path.

They had landed on the tail of the ship, where the docking ports were, and now had to make their way down into the belly of the ship. Everything creaked and swayed, the wind gusts outside howling even as they went deeper and deeper into the ship. Sometimes it felt like the very walls were vibrating with the gusts and gales. Ezra closed his eyes, hand along the wall, trying to reach out to the Force. Kanan filled his mind, and he couldn't feel anything beyond himself. He made a face and tried again. Still nothing. He hadn't felt Kanan since entering the atmosphere, he wondered if all the noxious gas was preventing him from touching the Force? Something to ask his teacher when he got back. Kanan...

Ezra turned from the wall – ceiling, and continued walking. Chopper was humming and hawing, complaining about how he'd have to pretzel himself to access the data ports with everything so sideways. Ezra didn't feel too much sympathy for the droid, since he would do so gladly and more to make sure his mentor was okay. He looked back and found the others further up. He'd gotten ahead of them.

"Come on guys!" he called out, his breather fogging with his voice. "What's taking you so long?"

"Some of us have stuff to carry!" Zeb said indignantly.

"And some of us are actually doing our job!" Sabine added, thirty feet away. "Readouts of this gas are off the charts. We shouldn't be down here anymore than we have to."

"All the more reason to hurry up!" Ezra said impatiently.

"Do you want it fast or do you want it _right_?" Sabine called down. "Last time we went salvaging for medical supplies things didn't exactly turn out well."

"That was Chopper's fault!" Ezra grunted, ignoring the profane protests from the droid. "And you weren't a big help then, either, as I recall."

"A big help? A big help? Who was it who saved the two of you again?"

"I wasn't talking about _you_ , Zeb!"

"Then keep your trap shut, kid!"

Ezra growled low in his throat, turning around and walking even faster just to spite them. Kanan was the priority, and he wouldn't let anything or anyone slow him down. He closed his eyes and tried again, demanding the Force give him guidance. The ship creaked again, breaking his concentration. _Karabast_!

They made their way down the wall to the main deck of the ship. The inside was noticeably more intact than the docking ports, and the yellow gas had not completely permeated this part of the ship, even after so many years. Ezra held his lightsaber higher, the blue light casting long black shadows over the dark halls. Chopper was blipping again, and he slowly rolled forward, sliding slightly beyond its control. "I know you want to find a console," Ezra said. "Me, too. Once we do we can find which level has the bacta tanks and hurry back to Kanan."

Chopper gave a long, low warble of noise, offering comfort. Ezra shook his head and pushed forward. He wouldn't feel comfort until he knew Kanan was okay. He looked back and found Zeb and Sabine even further behind. He growled and moved forward anyway. He'd wait for them once he and Chop were at the console.

"Ezra!" Zeb called from higher up the incline. "Stop pulling away from us!"

"Stop slowing down for every little thing!" the youngling countered.

There was a long string of Lasat curses after that, but Ezra ignored him and followed Chopper, the blue of his 'saber lighting the way. The sound of the wind eventually died down, the caverns of the ruined _MedStar_ slowly opening up to larger, more spacious halls and rooms. Ezra wanted to ask Sabine where they were in the massive ship, but she would probably just yell at him for getting so far ahead and he didn't need that on his comm. He frowned for a minute, trying to think as he climbed down, and took the risk of stopping. He kneeled down to the door he was standing on, and popped off the panel, pulling out some tools to hotwire the hydraulics to open. The C1 astromech turned his head panel, blurping a question.

"Relax, Chop," Ezra said, "I just want to see where we are."

Chopper gave a long moan of expletives and complaints, and Ezra ignored him like he ignored Zeb and Sabine. There was a small shock of power and the door opened, forcing Ezra to change his footing quickly. The door only opened about a third of the way, but Ezra was small enough. He swung his feet over the edge of the door and lowered his lightsaber first. The room was too dark to see far, just shadows at the edge of his perception. If he couldn't touch the Force with anything resembling consistency he didn't want to risk dropping down and being unable to come back up, so instead he set up a secure wire and rappelled down. His feet landed on something softer than the duracrete, and it wobbled under his weight causing him to stumble. Chopper was shrieking above him but Ezra took the time to secure his footing and lifted his lightsaber up to see what he was-

He gasped.

The room he had opened wasn't a room but a surgical bay, a massive, cavernous arena where multiple surgeries for the ship's wounded could be held while being transported to a medical station or base. B2-1 medical droids littered the corners, or in some cases hung from the walls where they were still connected to their surgery ports, but what Ezra was standing on, what the whole bottom layer of the room was covered with, were the bones and bodies of the people who had been having surgery done to them when the ship crashed. Most of the corpses were indiscernible, twisted and broken and so hauntingly like Kanan that for a brief moment Ezra thought he saw his master in the pile. Nausea overtook him and he yelled something, he wasn't sure what, and switched the motor on his wire, lifting himself as quickly as possible and away from the heap. He crawled back into the hallway and collapsed to dry heaves, Chopper warbling and cursing in binary as Ezra regretted ever trying to figure out where they were.

"Kid, what happened?"

"Ezra!"

He looked up dimly, dizzy from the sudden sickness, and saw Zeb and Sabine staring at him.

"We're on..." he coughed, almost sick again. "We're on the surgery floor."

Sabine's brightly colored helmet tilted to one side, and all she could manage was a soft, "Oh, Ezra..."

Zeb was not so sympathetic.

"There, now, you see? This is what happens when you shoot ahead like that! If you wanted to know where we were you could have asked her," he jutted a claw to the Mandelorian, "But instead you're so _liquereba karabast funzohbo_ that you had to see _that_ instead! This isn't the place for children or fools, it's the place for _warriors_!"

"Zeb," Sabine said harshly, "Give the kid a break."

"I'm not, I'm not a _kid_ ," Ezra grunted, struggling to get his stomach under control. "I'm just _fine_."

Chopper gave a distinctly negative warble.

"You stay out of this!" Ezra hissed.

Zeb let out a long, weary sigh that was so like Kanan, Ezra glanced around to see if his Master was there.

"Look," the Lasat said, "all of us are stressed, worried, and tired. Much as I tried to sleep on the ride over, I didn't get much rest, and I'm sure that's the same for the rest of you. But we're all here with the same purpose. Getting help for Kanan. That's going to mean working together. That shouldn't be a problem for us. We do it all the time."

Ezra looked down, feeling guilty. He had been so focused on Kanan, he'd forgotten that there were others just as worried as him, just as determined. He couldn't rush this, not like he desperately wanted. He needed to stay _focused_. In the _moment_.

He let out a long sigh, then another. Taking a moment to breath slowly, in... out... He could almost hear Kanan whispering all his lessons. " _The key is to block out all distractions. Focus on what the Force wants you to know, wants you to do. Slowed breathing helps you still yourself, still your mind, and in that stillness, you can hear everything._ "

In that silence, he heard a drop, felt a ripple.

He opened his eyes. "That way," he said pointing down the hall. "We'll reach an intersection and have to climb down.

"See," Zeb gave an approving rumble. "That's more like it."

Sabine rolled her head, not quite with them. "I coulda told you that," she grumbled. "So, can we finally be on our way, or are we going to waste more time?"

Ezra scowled at her, not liking the bite in her voice, but Zeb had already put a hand on her shoulder. Chopper gave an annoyed grumble and Ezra let out another sigh, this time annoyed. He tried to meet them halfway. It wasn't his fault that Sabine was too into revenge-mode to meet him as well.

"Come on," he grunted, standing and adjusting his belt. "This is about speed, right?" he snarked.

"Hey," Sabine hissed, "it was you and Zeb who decided to make it a race last time, don't try and drag me into this!"

"Hey, you're the one who's still-"

" _Enough!_ " Zeb roared, making both Sabine and Ezra stiffen.

The Lasat towered over them, sizing them up, before reaching for his comm. "Hera," he said. "You copy?"

" _Copy, Zeb,_ " Hera replied. " _What's the situation?_ "

"I'm scrubbing the mission."

" _WHAT?_ " Came three voices with a panicked warble from Chopper.

"We'll have to pass it on to a different team. I'm not sure we can handle it."

"No!" Ezra shouted, his heart leaping to his throat. "Zeb, you can't!"

"Don't you _dare_!" Sabine screamed. "I wanted to go after the Empire, but I'm _fine_ with this! Don't take this away as well!"

" _Zeb..._ " Hera's voice shook. " _Are you sure?_ "

Zeb glared at the two of them.

Sabine let out a soft breath. "Sorry Ezra."

The young Padawan looked down. "Sorry, Sabine."

Zeb nodded approvingly. "Belay that," he said into the comm. "Seems our difficulties have righted themselves."

" _Copy that,_ " Hera replied. " _And Zeb? Don't you_ ever _do that to me again. Do you understand?_ "

Zeb's ears flattened. "You got it."

They stood together in the darkness, awkwardly.

"I'll go back to take point," Ezra said, standing and heading down the hall.

Chopper's grunts had the distinct ring of it being about time.

Ezra rolled his eyes.

* * *

Zeb watched Ezra once again take point and saw that the tension was returning again to the kid's shoulders. But the kid was focused again, so Zeb concentrated on that and went back to the salvage sled.

Sabine was obviously giving him a dark glare from under her helmet, but he ignored her. These two were going to be the death of him on this mission. Assuming Hera didn't hide his body once she was done with him after trying to call it all off. But if he needed to drag the two of them back home because they couldn't handle it, he blasted _would_. Kanan deserved better than that. And he wouldn't let stress and worry torpedo this mission before it had really started.

Chopper was grumbling on the salvage sled, mechanical grasping arms gesticulating wildly in what was likely a long and extended rant. Thankfully, Zeb couldn't understand a lick of it. "Oh, quiet, you bucket of bolts," he grumbled right back. "You know I can't appreciate whatever it is you're trying to growl."

The little C1 droid offered even louder beeps and whirls, before defiantly turning and settling on the salvage sled.

"I think I found a port!" Ezra called. "Chopper can plug in!"

Said droid gave what was likely a colorful opinion, before standing straight and lighting his rocket to land on the wall-turned-floor and start rolling on ahead.

"That was fast," Sabine said softly.

Zeb let the steep incline pull his sled down to where the kid was, Chopper angling himself to jack in at a seventy-degree incline. Ezra held the little droid steady, and there was the slow and steady hum of data being processed.

"He says that most of the systems are damaged or corrupt, and that the gas of the planet is eroding more every day," Sabine translated.

"Great," Ezra mumbled. Zeb cuffed him on the head.

Ezra gripped his head and scowled, but finished the translation. "He also says that the bacta tanks are three floors down from here. There's a turbo lift just a little way down at an intersection."

"Good," Sabine said, "If it works then it's almost a straight shot back. This will be easy."

Chopper beeped something, probably derogatory, before unplugging and righting himself, using his small rocket to get back on the sled. Ezra took point again and Zeb let the weight of the sled and the astromech pulling him further down the incline, hoping the turbolift was less than "a little way down."

They came to the intersection that Ezra had said was approaching. The hall that turned left was now a shaft of open air, the right turn reaching up above them. Keeping oriented with the ship on its side was proving difficult, and Zeb scowled, wondering which turn Ezra had "felt" in the Force as necessary, and about the turbolift they needed to find to get three floors down. Or was that right?

The intersection itself took the + it made and cut off the corners, making it look like a diamond had been cut into the intersection. Of course, now that it was on its side, it made for an unusual open space to navigate. Each side of the diamond were doors to a turbolift, all four indicating that this intersection was a major thoroughfare back when the vessel had been upright and operational.

"Which turbo lift?" Zeb asked, looking at the salvage sled and wondering how he'd get it into _any_ of the turbolifts at this angle.

"Any of them," Sabine replied, looking at a readout on a gauntlet.

"No," Ezra said, "that one." With a light jump, he crossed the hall-turned-open shaft and landed on the lift doors. He wavered, the steep angle making him pinwheel his arms before righting himself. "See?" he turned. "We don't have to go through those two lifts," he pointed up to the lift doors above them in the now-sideways diamond. "The one next to you is way too awkward and we'd have to go in at a ninety-degree angle. This is the best one."

Ezra didn't wait for an answer and used his lightsaber to cut and opening.

Zeb rolled his eyes. The kid had a point, but this rushing forward without discussing things was going to get annoying in no time flat. Sabine gave a sigh, and the Lasat planted his feet carefully as he tried to peer into the inky blackness. "Ezra, you _wait_ while Sabine and I set up some cables. We'll need them when we backtrack."

Ezra scowled behind his filter mask, but nodded.

With Chopper manning the sled, a constant stream of complaints echoing in the blackness, Sabine and Zeb both made as quick work as they could of setting up cables for supporting the sled both heading to the lift and hopefully for the way back.

Zeb _really_ wasn't looking forward to a return trip in this thing.

Once all three were by the lift door, they all worked together to get the salvage sled into the lift-shaft, needing Ezra to cut an even bigger whole than the one he had worked, letting the scrap thunk down to the wall-turned-floor of the lift shaft.

"Perfect," Zeb deadpanned. "Now is down left, or right?"

That actually got a chuckle from both Ezra and Sabine. "Left," they both said.

Ezra raised his 'saber showing all the piping, cables, and innards of the ship. It was still a seventy-degree tilt in the lift, but instead of following it down Zeb was going down at an angle, and his large feet were much more careful in their placement as he struggled to keep the salvage sled from tipping too far to the side as gravity pulled at it. Ezra was pulling ahead again. _Karabast_ , stupid kid!

"Kid!" he called down, "What did I _just_ say!"

"I know!" the youngling called up, "But I don't want to wait! I want Kanan to have this as soon as possible!"

"Fast, or right?" Sabine muttered under her breath. She was even farther behind than Zeb, and it was obvious her small human feet were making it difficult to navigate the lift shaft.

That was when the lift shuddered, a low rattling vibration and a distant sound of a crash.

"Oi, that you, kid?" Zeb called out.

" _No_ , that was you wasn't it?"

"This kriffing ship is coming apart," Sabine cursed, light on her helmet swinging left and right as she turned around. "We're going to be hearing crashes like that the whole trip."

Just what they needed. Zeb felt the sudden, intense urge to hit something, and he wished the bucketheads would show up so he could relieve some of the tension. He growled, low in his throat as his ears flattened, and he gripped the sled harder as he started picking his way down again. They slowly made it down a level, then two, then three. Ezra was waiting – not patiently – at the turbolift door, foot tapping and weight shifting constantly with nervous energy. Zeb ignored the irritation and waited for Sabine to catch up. She was out of breath slightly after the trek, and one hand kept hovering over her blasters. She, too, was impatient. Three impatient beings and a psychotic astromech on a mission to find a bacta tank in a ruined med-ship? Zeb was beginning to wonder if Inquisitors were going to show up, it was too similar to feel comfortable. He glanced at Sabine and saw her helmet nod, she saw the similarities as well.

Since the hall’s intersections had four turbo lifts, that meant that the lift itself had two doors, so that a gurney could come in and not need to be turned to head out a different way. Coming into the shaft, they had dropped down from one side, and standing at the level they needed, required figuring out if they were going through the door they were standing on or the door above them.

"We need this door," Sabine said, pointing down.

"Of course, we do," Zeb grumbled.

Chopper let out a waving grumble that Zeb had no problem ignoring.

"Come on," Zeb shifted the sled again. "Let's set up some lines."

Ezra could not be talked to, however, too consumed in his own mind to even acknowledge that the rest of the team still had work to do. He shoved his lightsaber into the lift doors, once more cutting out an opening and the right size this time for the sled. The weight of the doors pulled it out of its shape, and it tumbled with a loud series of crashes down the new hallway-turned-shaft, bumping and thumping and thudding everywhere before the noise finally died down.

It once again took some maneuvering, setting support lines and easing the salvage sled out onto the opposite lift door across the intersection, but once they were in the hallway, lights filling the space, they all saw the blood.

Zeb sucked in a breath through his breather, eyes widening as he saw the splatter. And the bones. And the carcasses.

The closed lift doors they were standing on and had set the sled to were covered in dried blood, from floor to ceiling. Off one side of the lift doors was a hallway that was now a wide shaft, and the other side had a hall where the blood splatter bore drag marks, bones and remains of some sort of smaller, local wildlife. Zeb, Sabine, and Chopper were all flashing their lights around, studying the graphically gory tableau, each flicker of light showing something new and horrifying.

Zeb fumbled for his comm, and with one hand loose the sled started to slide down the incline before his feet planted. He cursed, Sabine rushing to keep him from falling, Ezra lost to the horror as he slowly spun around, drinking in all the details.

"Hera, do you copy?" he grunted, arm straining.

" _What is it, Zeb?_ "

"We ain't alone here," he said. He hated that his voice was at a higher pitch than normal. "Got some predators somewhere nesting here."

" _Big?_ "

"Well, given the buckets of blood we're staring at, I'd say so," Sabine said in defensively sarcastic glory. Once Zeb's footing was secure she pulled out both of her blasters, spinning them in her hands and slowly panning around.

" _Be careful down there,_ " Hera said. " _I'll see if I can boost the power of the scanners, but from space it will be awfully hard to tell if there are any life forms near you._ "

"Copy that," Zeb said, "We'll take what we can get." He put the comm back and finally gripped the sled with both hands. "Ezra."

Nothing.

"Ezra!"

The kid jumped and yelped simultaneously, hair nearly standing on end. "What?" he demanded.

Zeb couldn't hold his irritation any longer. "Are you going to _karabast_ take point or not?" he demanded.

Ezra shuddered and started making his way through the dried blood.

* * *

Sabine frowned heavily, stepping lightly over another set of bones as they made their way down the bloodied hall. She had _thought_ the abandoned hospital where they'd encountered the Inquisitors had been creepy. This was slowly superseding that with every step she took.

Ezra was farther down the hall, lightsaber still high and casting everything in a gentle blue glow. Zeb's ears were almost constantly twitching back and forth and Sabine _really_ didn't want to think about whatever he might be hearing now that they knew they were in predator territory. Chopper was spinning on the sled, looking around just as constantly as the rest of them.

"Hold it," Zeb whispered, and the all halted. Sabine was scanning behind them constantly, checking her readouts and holding one of her blasters out as simple reassurance.

"What is it?" she hissed.

"I thought I heard..."

There was a loud clunk that echoed all around them, followed by creaking metal somewhere above them.

They stood in silence, tensely waiting.

After a minute, Ezra started moving again. "Come on," he said. "The bacta tanks can't be far from here."

"That's why I said it was a straight shot," Sabine grumbled.

Chopper gave his own opinion, but Sabine focused on keeping an eye on their rear.

"I don't like this," she said.

"None of us do," Zeb growled back.

"But why would any creature be in here," she hissed back. "The other areas, fine, it's been exposed. There are plenty of rocks, the gases, shrubs after all these years. But this deep? Why come this far into the frigate?"

"Cave system," the Lasat growled. "The planet is probably littered with caves, so they likely thought of it like an extension of their normal habitat."

"Great," Ezra said, disgruntled. "That means they can see in the dark."

"Even better," Sabine knelt down. "Claw marks, at least three centimeters wide."

" _Karabast_. That will be a big predator," Zeb agreed.

Another crash sounded above them, making them all stiffen again.

Chopper let out a low warble.

"Yeah," Ezra agreed. "Let's get moving."

It wasn't long before they heard another crash.

"That is seriously freaking me out," Sabin muttered.

"Found it!" Ezra called. Already, his lightsaber was cutting into a set of doors that were on the wall-turned-floor.

"Right," Zeb set down the sled. "Sabine, you and Chopper stay here. Ezra and I go down and start investigating the tanks, see if any are salvageable. If they are, Sabine and I switch. You'll do better than me at detaching."

"Then shouldn't I go first?" Sabine said. "I'll be better able to investigate the tanks and see what's good or not."

"But I need you and your scanners with Chopper and his scanners out here," Zeb replied.

"Then keep Ezra and his Force-ness out here."

Zeb was scowling, standing to his full height in a way he rarely did. "You and Chopper stay out here," he growled.

"That's not good tactics!" Sabine retorted. "We should-"

"All of the tanks look good!" Ezra called from down in the tank room, where he had apparently decided to dive right in without letting them settle the argument.

Chopper gave a warbling laugh.

Sabine smiled behind her helmet and set up a set of ropes quickly before rappelling down.

What she found... wasn't pleasant.

The room itself was perfectly preserved, nothing of the outside having gotten in, leaving three rows of four bacta tanks still attached to the floor-turned-wall, suspended outwards like floating shelves. And in each of the tanks was a body, preserved in bacta.

"Whoa..."

"Let's just get a tank and get moving," Ezra said, hopping on to one of the suspended tanks and starting to study it the base.

But Sabine was looking at a different tank, flashing her light around it. "Do you think they're still alive?" she asked, an idea taking hold of her. "Suspended animation? Does bacta even have an expiration date? How does its potency last? If we pull these people from the tanks, this becomes a rescue mission!"

"Sabine," Ezra said.

"Come one, Ezra," she said, clambering onto a tank and sliding over to the top of one. "Let's see if they're alive."

" _Sabine_ ," he hissed.

"I wonder what kind of stories they could tell. They survived the Clone Wars! They'd probably want to help the rebellion."

" _SABINE!_ " Ezra shouted, " _Stop it_."

She paused, turning to the young Padawan. "What?" she asked.

"They're dead," he said.

"You can't know that," she retorted. "There aren't any power readouts for life-support anything."

"I _know_ ," he said heavily, eyes looking way too old for his fifteen years.

"Why... oh..." Sabine looked down. The Force. Of course, Ezra would know if they were alive or not. It might have even been the first thing he checked once he dropped down. She shuddered. That meant these people were alive, possibly for years, until the power cut out and they stopped getting life-support.

"We'll have to pull out the body," Zeb called down from above.

" _What_?" Ezra and Sabine shouted back.

"Let the predator have it for dinner and not chase after us."

Sabine and Ezra shuddered as one.

* * *

Ezra held both his lightsaber and cliplight high for Sabine to see better as she started pulling apart panels to get a better look at the bacta tank's connections. He had decided it was best to stay quiet about the corpses in the tanks. While no one could see her face with her helmet on, she was clearly disturbed when he'd told her that they were all dead, and she was even _more_ disturbed when Zeb had said they'd have to pull out a corpse to distract whatever predator was determined to terrify them with the thunks and clunks that echoed creepily through the cavernous halls.

Instead, he looked at the tank two rows above him. A Jedi master was there. And one tank over was her Padawan. Back when they had found Master Unduli, Kanan had said that the old master's presence was clouded. Ezra himself couldn't quite feel that at the time, but he could definitely feel what Kanan had meant now.

Sensing Kanan's presence in the Force was like looking at clear water, seeing what was there and depths and currents and ripples. Sensing the master and Padawan in the bacta tanks above him was like looking at watered down mud. There was a sense of what had been life, but it was faded and hard to see.

And, when they had come upon Master Unduli, upon seeing her withered and decaying body, Ezra had felt such great despair, which had made no sense at the time. He was terrified, horrified, and confused, but he'd had no reason to feel such sadness. Kanan had later explained that the wellspring of sorrow had been Master Unduli's, still swirling in the Force even so long after her death. He'd picked up on it unconsciously at the time and it wasn't until a later discussion with Kanan that they'd realized his sensitivity at the time.

The master and Padawan above him...

The master was peaceful and calm, with underlaying worries and determination. The _Padawan_ , however. The Padawan had been aware that his master had died. There were swirls and eddies of grief and loss, and the calm acceptance that he would die as well.

Ezra _really_ didn't want to think about how that mirrored things for him. How Kanan's master had died, leaving a grieving and lost Padawan, who would occasionally show calm acceptance of death as well. Visions of Kanan atop the _Ghost_ deflecting orbital bombardment, facing the Grand Inquisitor alone, and the _calmness_ that had surrounded his master and the fact that he might just die.

And Ezra _really_ didn't want to think how he might be a Padawan lost and grieving.

Kanan was alive. _Alive_. He could still sense him, knew that Kanan was still stubbornly fighting even while in a great deal of pain.

He couldn't think like this. It wouldn't help.

But Ezra couldn't help but dwell on the _if._ _If_ Kanan died. _If_ he could never recover. _If_ they got there too late. _If_...

He was so scared.

" _You're allowed to worry, Ezra. But things will either be or won't be. If you start to fear... Just stay with me, kid_."

" _Fear is a dangerous emotion for a Jedi. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. Your fear stems from your passion, and an emotion that strong naturally calls out to the Force. But Ezra, the Force does not respond well to such a call_."

So, he tried very hard to ignore his fear. Push it aside.

He wouldn't be like that dead Padawan suspended above him. And Kanan would _not_ be like the dead master.

It just _couldn't_ happen.

Not like this.

Not at all.

"Got it," Sabine said with a smile. "We need to detach a power coupling here and unbolt the foundation. Once we get some lines hooked up..."

But she was deep in mechanical jargon again, and Ezra wasn't really paying attention. Jedi couldn't be afraid. They couldn't show fear. He'd been not showing fear for years, ever since his parents were taken. He knew how to bury and hide it. But he had no idea how not to _feel_ it. And he was _drowning_ in fear.

_Grrrrrraaaarrrrr._

_Ahsoka, take care of him. I'm sorry._

_Grrowwwwrrr_.

_Ezra! Run!_

_Grrrrrrreeeaaaaaawwwrrr._

_Your master has deceived you into thinking you can be a Jedi._

_Grrraaaooooorrrrr._

_Ezra!_

"Ezra!"

He stiffened. "What?" he turned quickly, opening eyes he didn't even realized he had closed, trying to loosen the tension that was making his shoulders ache.

"I said it's time," Sabine said, exasperated. "We can get the bacta tank up to Zeb, and we'll have enough stability to get the poor soul out and be on our way."

"Right. Got it. I'm with you," he replied, hopping off the tank he had been standing on to the wall-turned-floor. Ezra took a deep breath, trying to reach for the calm and focus that Kanan was always trying to instill in him. He knew Sabine had lines set up to drag the tank up, and the salvage sled had a winch to start reeling it up. But time was of the essence. Time against the predators finding them, time against Kanan and survival...

Just...

They needed to rush.

So, he took another deep breath, and reached out, closing his eyes and picturing the bacta tank. He felt the moment that Sabine decoupled it, and rather than letting it fall to the floor, he grasped it in the Force, moving it up to the hole where Zeb and Chopper were waiting. He'd lifted heavier, the Temple on Lothal being the first that came to mind. The problem was the precision necessary to get it out of the hole. He could feel Zeb trying to maneuver it, and Ezra focused on letting Zeb do that so he could just get it up and over the sled.

"Zeb!" he gasped out, the focus getting hard with the distance and precision.

"Let it go, kid!" he called back.

Ezra did so willingly, falling to his knees with the effort, taking gulps of air from the filters. That should have been easy, moving things with the Force was becoming almost second nature, but it was so hard to feel the Force here, to touch it. Most of the work was on him and not the Force, and his patched jumpsuit was so damp with sweat. He wiped his forehead. The last thing they needed was the predators attacking them and he without the Force to push them back. He shuddered at the thought and took another deep breath. Calm. He had to be calm. He stuffed his fear somewhere else.

Sabine was already climbing the wires, swinging slightly in an elegant picture of efficiency. Ezra followed at a much clumsier pace, muscles straining after using the Force and mind cloudy with thoughts that he shouldn't be having. Chopper was off the sled now, head spinning around and around with his arms out, his low warbles all over the spectrum. Ezra picked out several curses and tuned out the rest.

"Hera," Zeb said into the speaker, "We got a tank, and there are others here that still look good. If this pans out, we can bring a bigger team and get more."

" _Copy that,_ " Hera said, " _Be careful on the way up. Scanners say a storm's incoming, and that means even stronger winds than what you came down in._ "

Just what they needed.

"Roger that," Sabine said. She turned to the others. "I'll take point this time, I'm the best shot."

Zeb growled. "You sayin' I can't shoot?"

" _No_ , I'm just saying I'm a better shot."

"Who was it that saved your skin with my trusty bo-rifle?"

"I'm not saying that!" Sabine said, louder this time, "I'm just saying if those predator things start hunting us I should be in the lead. I was a bounty hunter for a year and-"

"And _I_ was the Captain of the Honor Guard and military commander of the entire planet of-"

"Both of you shut up!" Ezra shouted, voice cracking and much louder than he thought he would sound. Both heads snapped to him to stare, shocked at the outburst, and Ezra blinked for all of a second before plunging ahead. "We can fight once Kanan's in this tank, okay? No detours. _I'll_ take point. I have a _lightsaber_. Sabine can cover our rears – _again_ – and make sure we're not attacked from behind. Chopper, roll ahead and get the shuttle ready; auto-pilot won't account for the storm and you can fly it closer to us when we get there. Does anyone have a _problem_ with that?"

"... only with your attitude..." Sabine said under her breath. Ezra felt a prickle of hurt but pushed it aside as well. Chopper wheeled ahead up the steep slope, rocket igniting occasionally and slowly disappearing as he started on his assignment. No sooner was he out of sight than there was another groaning shudder throughout the ship, and a haunting, high pitched, howling sound.

Ezra's heartrate jumped, and he struggled to take a breath through the filter – it felt like it was working too slow, he couldn't get enough oxygen – and plunged ahead.

Going downhill was infinitely easier than going up. Gravity was at their beck and call then, while now they had to fight it constantly. Zeb was audibly grunting as he pushed the salvage sled up the steep incline; their pace was painfully slower and Ezra was practically vibrating with energy and irritation. He kept looking back, giving more and more baleful looks, sometimes outright glares, before forcibly reminding himself that Zeb had the most weight to carry and that it was supposed to be understandable.

They backtracked to the sideways intersection they had dropped into, and the blood and bone matter was just as ugly now as it was an hour ago. The howl reasserted itself, and Ezra though he saw a reflection of the light of his laser sword out of the corner of his eye; but he snapped his head around and found nothing, just the dark opening chasm of the hallway as it extended down into an abyss. Chills were shooting up and down his spine, and Ezra wondered if he could see his breath if he exhaled.

_Grreeeeeeeaaaaaaaaooorrr._

The sound echoed from everywhere and nowhere, and Ezra started to hyperventilate from the sound.

"Anybody else creeped out by those crashing noises?" Sabine asked.

"Why haven't we seen 'em yet?" Zeb asked.

The Mandalorean made a noise of annoyance. "Because they're predators, of course," she said with the sound of someone speaking to a youngling. "They're hunting us. They're trying to scare us into flight so they can herd us somewhere, or maybe they're already herding us, or maybe they're laying a trap or-"

"Could you _not_ come up with terrifying ways of them killing us?"

"You wanted to know."

"Not like _that_ I didn't."

"Could we hurry up?" Ezra demanded.

" _Karabast_ , _you_ try pushing this thing up a seventy-degree incline!" Zeb growled. "I've had just about enough of you younglings."

"Look who's talking," Sabine retorted, still looking around with her blasters drawn. "You're the most immature one of this entire crew after Chopper."

"Who you calling immature?"

"Take a guess."

_Grrrrroaaaaaaaaarr._

Ezra shivered. It felt like the temperature was dropping with every second they were waiting, and he just wanted to _get out of here_ and get to _Kanan_ before something _terrible_ happened. A hundred different pictures were in his mind as he waited for the other two to join him below the lift, images of Kanan broken in the red fields when they found him, of shapeless predators eating him alive, of dying in a bacta tank with no one knowing, of Kanan in pieces in the blood spattered halls of the ship, of him in the surgery room with all the other rotten bodies, of dying in Ezra's arms, and each idea was worse than the last, and Ezra just _couldn't stand it_ anymore and it was so _cold_ , and _why wouldn't they kriffing hurry up_?

He was about to give the two idiots a piece of his mind when he saw the reflection again, and this time when he turned around he saw a set of pink eyes staring at him _from the ceiling_ , pink eyes attached to an open maw of teeth and a low, throaty growl.

That was when he screamed.

He swung blindly, but the sideways hallway was too wide and his 'saber couldn't reach the creature, and the thing responded with a roar that shook Ezra down to his bones, and he backed up without checking his footing, the steep incline tripping him and making him slide back the way he had come, through the bones and rotten meat and into the salvage sled. He was still screaming, in a blind terror now, and scrambled for footing, unable to hear Zeb and Sabine as they demanded what was wrong. All he really understood was he had to plant his feet somehow to do those Shi-Cho moves and protect himself from the oncoming death that was approaching.

The creature was about half the size of Zeb at the shoulder, four legged with four claws on each foot that dug into the metal like it was grass. Ears lay flat on its head and two curved horns sprouted; its head was low and his hind quarters were high up, revealing two tails that hooked up and waved menacingly into the air. Each tail had one enormous claw, maybe the size of Ezra's head, with the promise of venom for a lucky puncture. It was still on the ceiling, rumbling low in its throat and moving slowly towards them, unhindered by being upside down.

Zeb and Sabine screamed too, the Mandalorean aiming up to fire her blaster and missing completely. The shot only seemed to make the scorpion-cat angrier, it sucked in a breath of the planet's noxious gas and roared, _grrrrrreeeeeeaaaaaaaaaooooooorrrh_ , and the noise made everyone cover their ears. With Zeb losing his grip on the sled, it immediately slid backwards, and suddenly it was a race to keep from being trampled by the bacta tank and prevent it from getting away from them. Ezra, standing on the tank, lost his footing almost instantaneously while Zeb snapped his hands out to grab the sled and Sabine fired again. Ezra tumbled to the side and banged his head on something hard and metallic, and the next thing he knew he was hanging onto the lip of a door jam with both hands and looking up to see he had slid over fifty feet down the hall.

Lightsaber, where was his lightsaber?

He looked around and saw it on the lip at the other end of the door jam. He was shaking with fear, there were bursts of noise and flashes of light and this horrible meaty _grrrreeeeoooarr_ and he could barely put together a thought because all he could do was fight or flight and he couldn't run because bacta tank because Kanan because, because, _because_ and he shoved his hand to the side but the 'saber was out of reach, no protection, need protection, need to _kill that thing,_ reach for the lightsaber ,call on the Force, only the Force isn't answering and _he was going to die._

Something crashed into him, and he was spinning around and around, away from his lightsaber and he hit his head on something again, only this time it made him suck in a breath – the breather couldn't seem to give him enough air – and for a brief moment he couldn’t think. The thing he was falling with was Zeb, riding on the salvage sled, Sabine on it too as they were in open freefall down the hall.

"Kid, make us stop _now!_ "

Ezra closed his eyes and reached out to the Force, begging for help, a yell erupting from his throat before he felt it respond, and he felt so _cold_ , his teeth were chattering, but they skittered to a stop, Sabine still blasting somewhere above them, multi-lingual curses falling out of her mouth. Ezra looked at the bacta tank, shivering, and all he could picture was failing Kanan. That scorpion-cat was going to make him fail. Fail _Kanan_.

He never hated an idea so much in his life.

Lightsaber or no, he was going to _kill_ that scorpion-cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er, we lied. We couldn't quite stuff it all into two parts, so it will be three.
> 
> Looking back on this chapter in retrospect, we did okay with Zeb and Sabine, but not great. We don't really explore them further than the show has to this point, and they read a little shallow as a result. Ezra in the meantime was very easy to write, because he's a very young Anakin and we've had lots of time spent on writing a young Skywalker. Also, the show has spent a lot of time making sure we understand, either through text or subtext, just what his issues are and it doesn't take much to play with those emotions. As a result, the Ezra POVs stand head and shoulders above the other two.
> 
> Also notice this is before we ever wrote from Chopper's POV, so we got rid of him as fast as humanly possible because we didn't know what to do with him. The same reason for Hera not being part of the landing party - well, she's the pilot so of course she would be up in orbit, but we also hadn't yet seen her episodes in season 2 and hadn't read New Dawn. Also, as the resident adult she would keep them all in line, and of course we couldn't let that happen, now, could we? :P
> 
> Next chapter: Scorpats are scary.


	3. Chapter 3

Ahsoka had a moment of free time and, since his most important people were out on a mission, Ahsoka decided to keep Kanan company. She sat on the floor, cross-legged, eyes closed and mind open to the Force. Kanan's signature was much stronger this time, the binding tissue of the universe pulsing softly in its work, in tune with the natural hum of the spaceship and the people in it. The Togruta felt the empty chambers of her montral vibrating with something that wasn't her natural ultrasonic perception, something she had felt once before – stronger, more dangerous – in the dogfight with that Sith Lord. This was but a mild nudge in comparison, but she had not expected the sensation, and she debated on pursuing the feeling or withdrawing.

Then came the moan: "... Ezra..."

Her blue eyes snapped open and she saw Kanan's unfocused blue-green eyes, rolling around in his head. She was on her feet and moved quickly to his side, and she leaned carefully into his line of sight, in case he became more conscious.

"Kanan," she said softly, trying to get his attention.

"... he's doing... he's doing it again... Ezra..."

Oh. Ahsoka's mind put the pieces together very quickly, and her montral hummed in agreement.

"... like the fyrnocks... the Inquisitor... so cold..."

The Togruta put her hand on Kanan's forehead, closing her eyes and opening herself up to the Force again. "Breathe with me, Kanan," she said softly, planting the suggestion in the former Padawan. His uneven breathing leveled out, falling in synch with her, and together they reached out into the Force. There were small pictures, a sideways hallway, rotten corpses, bodies in bacta tanks, and a large cat with two tails, gnawing and growling and chasing. "Ezra is in danger," Ahsoka said. "Your Padawan is in danger, and he is letting his fear control him."

"... I'm okay... Ezra... I'm okay..."

Kanan wasn't strong enough to send his thought out to the Force, and Ahsoka helped him push it out, asking the Force to guide it to the right person, accepting the Force would do what it needed to with the message. She continued to breathe with the former Jedi, helped him send more thoughts out to the galaxy, hoping one of them would give Ezra the courage to face his fear.

* * *

The scorpion-cat, scorpat, dodged the blaster shots or just shrugged off the ones that connected. It's fur was the same sickly yellow color of the planets noxious gas, and Zeb was left wondering when his carefully constructed plan had turned into a _kriffing_ pile of _poodoo._ He was never teasing Kanan about his last minute changes again. Ezra was scrambling up the incline, determined to reach his lightsaber while the Lasat was still securing the (temporarily) not-falling bacta tank so that he could reach his bo-rifle and do something _other_ than gripping the salvage sled. Sabine was firing her blasters rapidly, mostly on target but not up to her usual standards. Zeb was not going to feel sympathy for her – he was _karabast_ scared, too, and no one saw _him_ running around like a childish fool. He was a warrior first.

Once the sled was secure he finally lifted his rifle. Standard blaster fire didn't phase the scorpat, so Zeb adjusted the setting of his rifle and looked down the site.

"All right, kitty, let's see if you like ammo charged with eleven-thousand volts of electricity."

He fired and the shot only just barely connected; the beast was fast, but it cried out in pain when the shock hit, and it finally lost its grip on the overhead, falling with a heavy thud on the wall-turned-floor of the incline. The creature writhed as it slid down towards them, but only briefly. That was enough for Zeb to change the orientation of his bo-rifle and stab it with the purple lightning of his staff. The creature cried out again, and Sabine moved in, her aim more deliberate now, and shooting into the creatures opened mouth.

"Take that, you _kriffing_ piece of space-meat," she cursed. "The creature's stunned, let's get out of here."

"Not yet."

Zeb and Sabine turned to see Ezra had returned with his lightsaber, the blue light casting the human's features in a sickly grey as the kid glared at the mewling creature.

"Not until it's paid for what its done."

"And what does that mean?" Sabine asked.

Ezra raised his lightsaber.

" _Grrrrreeeeeaaaaawwwwwwrr!_ "

Everyone froze.

" _Grrroaaaaaaawwwl!_ "

" _Grrraaaeeeeeeeeewwwwr!_ "

"Oh, _karabast_ , there's more," Zeb cursed. "All right, that's it, we're moving. You two move the sled, I'll clear the way."

"Hey, I thought you were the muscle!"

"You don't have the training to use a bo-rifle, and these things are vulnerable to electricity."

Sabine's helmet stared at Zeb for several seconds, before her shoulders slumped in agreement. "Here," she said, tossing some thermal detonators, "Just in case." Zeb took the explosives and helped the kids pull the sled out and slowly up the incline. The Lasat took point once they were well away from the scorpat; by this point the path was well clear of debris because of their first two trips, and the younglings were younger and highly motivated to go as fast as possible. Zeb kept his staff charged, plodding along on his massive feet and shifting his eyes everywhere. He adjusted the tube of his breather, making sure his arms were free for fighting, and listened as two distinct howls echoed back and forth through the ruined ship.

By some miracle they made it to the intersection where the lift was, and Zeb let the younglings figure out how to lift the sled up into the shaft of the turbolift. He adjusted his bo back to a rifle, trying to look everywhere, determined to take out all his poorly pent-up aggression on the beasts if they showed themselves.

"Ezra, why are you taking so long?"

"It's hard to touch the Force..."

"Hurry up!"

"I'm _trying_. _You kriffing_ do it if you think this is easy."

"I would if I _could_ , but for now I have to rely on _you_."

Space, did these two ever shut up? Zeb couldn't afford to be irritated at them, much as he wanted to punch their lights out. Another howl echoed through the hall. "Care to hurry it up?" he demanded, stressed.

"Why are you all against me?" Ezra demanded, hands up and sled suspended dubiously only feet above his head. "I'm trying harder than anyone here! We have to get this to Kanan!"

"We have to _stay alive_ for that to happen," Sabine countered, stress making her sarcasm more vicious, "That means moving _fast_."

"First you want me to slow down now you want me to hurry up? Make up your mind!"

"Just shut up and _lift_!"

Then came the shudder, Zeb and Ezra both swaying on their feet and the sled swaying dangerously, and Zeb couldn't afford to watch the children's spat, swinging his rifle around, his light clipped to the shaft of his weapon and illuminating wherever he looked. The echoes made it hard to tell directionality, but he was pretty sure it was above... Ah, karabast.

With the intersection at the angle it was, there was the seventy-degree incline they had been traveling, littered with blood and bones of the scorpats meals, the flat plane that was one of the four turbolift doors where they stood, a yawning chasm going nearly straight down, and two more chasms above them. Down each of those chasms came a scorpat, one slightly darker than the other, in what could best be described as a pincer movement. Sabine was up in the lift shaft and Ezra on the lift door with Zeb; the clever predators were going to separate them. Zeb gave an adrenal filled yell and grabbed the kid, ignoring the answering squawk and pitching him up to the lift. He slung his bo-rifle over his shoulder and took an impressive standing leap, claws just missing the lip of the cut-open lift door. Something sharp got caught in the meat of his leg and then he was being dragged, screaming.

* * *

"Zeb!" Sabine screamed. "Zeb!"

"Zeb!" Ezra shouted, reaching out through the hole. " _Zeb_!"

Sabine sat back, face slack, jaw dropped in her breathing mask.

First Kanan.

Now Zeb.

" _Zeb! Zeb come in! What's going on?_ "

Ezra was scrambling for his communicator and Sabine just sank to her knees.

What did they do?

 _What_ did they _do_?

" _What do you_ mean _you just lost Zeb_?" Hera shouted.

Sabine's breath hitched, her throat was clogged...

She stood, blaster in each hand. "Okay," she said. "Okay. "We still have a bacta tank to move." She climbed up on top of it, one blaster facing down the lift shaft, one facing up. "Ezra, get us moving. Once the tank is secure on the shuttle, we're going to get Zeb."

"We have to go after him _now_!" Ezra shouted back. "We don't know if he'll last long enough for us to go all the way back to the shuttle and _then_ come back! We have to find him!"

"And we can't lug the tank along the whole way," Sabine hissed back. "A storm's coming, Chopper can get the shuttle up to Hera and come back while we go back after Zeb."

"Are you _crazy_?" Ezra shouted. "We're down a person and you want us to go _on_?"

Sabine grit her teeth, not wanting to say it out loud.

"You think we'll be better if we have Zeb with us?" she growled. "He's hurt now. He'll be limping if he can even walk, you saw how those scorpats grabbed him. Then we'll be protecting a bacta tank _and_ Zeb, splitting our resources even further! I don't like this any more than you, but we don't _have_ any other options."

There was war on Ezra's face. War that Sabine understood all too well. How to get the best good out of a bad situation. Zeb or Kanan? Now or later? But she wouldn't leave Ezra to make that decision. She was older, more experienced. Hopefully a little wiser. She'd take the responsibility.

No one else could.

" _Move_!" she ordered, and Ezra jumped, surprised that she even used that tone to him, before grabbing the handles of the salvage sled and starting to move it. Sabine kept her balance, feet wide, swiveling her helmeted head left and right. Sweat dripped down her temple in the confines of her helmet, her breath coming faster and more unsteady than she wanted it to be. It was work to control it. To stay even and confident instead of the terrified and worried girl she was.

They were finally at the hole that Ezra had cut, ready to get the sled back up through it. The lines were set up from before, ready to haul it up, but with these scorpats after them, they didn't have time... or Zeb's muscle... to do this by hand.

Sabine lightly hopped off the tank, and stood back to back with Ezra. "Get that up through the hole," she ordered. "We're almost back to the shuttle."

"No we aren't," Ezra grumbled, but he had already closed his eyes and his brow was furrowed. Sabine kept her mouth closed, not wanting to interrupt whatever it was Ezra was doing to magically lift the tank and sled. She kept moving around him, lightly, flashing her light everywhere, and keeping her blasters akimbo and at the ready.

"Why is this so _difficult_ ," Ezra hissed out a grunt.

Sabine let him be, not liking the readouts she was getting in her helmet. The infrared was showing that one of the scorpats was trying to come towards them, and she spared a half a thought to wonder how it got its bulk into the lifts before she realized it had probably come in from a different damaged section. Well, this time she knew it was coming and could plan accordingly.

With Ezra in deep concentration, she silently slipped away, further down the lift shaft, to set a nice little explosive trap. This wire there, that line there, setting the same frequencies... She stepped back, a trigger replacing a blaster as she eased her way back.

Perfect. They had the upper hand this time.

Then she heard something suspiciously like a breath, felt a breeze roll over her when there shouldn't be one this deep in the vessel, and turned.

They could regulate their own temperatures!

"Ez-"

Before she could even shout a name, a pair of tails wrapped around her and yanked.

* * *

Ezra scrambled up the hole, sweating and shivering at the same time, feet flailing in the air before he finally got himself settled, rolling onto his back and panting what air he could get from his breather. He would rest until Sabine came up, which would be any second now... any second now...

Sabine...?

He rolled over, looking out over the edge of the hole, but there was nothing but darkness below. The wind was howling up here in the rear of the ship, metal rattling and shaking – it felt like the entire ship was seconds away from crashing out from underneath him, just like the rest of his world – but his mind was filled with that horrible sound, _ggrrrrroooaaawwwwwrhhh_ , and he was absolutely certain he heard the sounds of chewing. He held his lightsaber close, shuddering, hazy, waiting. Those scorpats were going to try to bum-rush him, and he was going to _cut them to pieces_ for what they had done to his friends. His _family_.

He could darkly picture ripping those cats to shreds, a lightsaber handled feet-thick duracrete like it was flimsy, the soft flesh of the scorpats would be nothing.

Ezra swung his blade and stood up, ready to dive back into the lift and and wreck havoc on those animals that had just taken so much from him. The salvage sled and bacta tank slid dangerously loose in his grip, and he was brought temporarily back to reality. Sabine had said the tank first, then he would be free to kill these _kriffing_ beasts as much as he wanted. He stared at the tank, blinking, and had enough presence of mind to shove it to the side and secure it. Those few moments of inattention were all that was needed for the next scorpat to sneak up on him, and when he turned around the dusty yellow coat was not on the ceiling but right in front of him, one clawed paw raised to swipe, and Ezra gave an undignified yelp as he dived to the side, filthy claws missing him by inches.

Okay, so maybe killing them wouldn't be so easy.

The teen scrambled up the incline, almost climbing, and the scorpat easily kept pace, mouth open and claws out and those two tails stabbing forward dangerously. Its mouth didn't move much, but Ezra could still hear the terrorizing _grrrraaaaawwwwoooooooll_ in his head, and it felt like his entire body was shaking. Every piece of debris they had moved on their way down seemed to be in the way again, there were a dozen near misses and trips and slides; Ezra didn't even have time to swing his lightsaber, the beast pressing the offensive and toying with its prey.

Ezra fell through a hole – not a hole, an open door on the sideways ship, into a room filled with the noxious yellow gas of the planet. He looked up and the creature was nowhere in sight, its yellow coat the perfect camouflage. He finally ignited his lightsaber again, but the gas was as thick as fog, and he was forced instead to cut through the floor, hoping that on the other side of this wall there was another hallway that he could find ground to fight on. He followed the duracrete notched he cut out and down, his bones vibrating with the impact. There was more yellow gas here, but Ezra moved up the incline, trying to stay parallel with the hallway above him.

_Grrrrrrwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaoooorr!_

"Just go away!" he shouted. " _Karabast_ , just go away!"

Except the creature appeared from thin air right in front of him, toothy smile and pink eyes and the tail shot out from seemingly nowhere. Ezra dodged to the side, but he thought he felt a ripping sensation; he didn't have time to look however, as he tumbled backwards and down the incline, lightsaber disengaging, up and over and down and around, utterly disoriented before he was suddenly in free-fall for several heart-stopping seconds and landing hard on a metal surface.

Now he was scrambling for purchase again – not to get away from the creature – but to keep from being _blown away_.

He had managed to get to one of the ports of the tail of the ship, and he had fallen into the docking ramp. Not that he remembered exactly how he'd managed it. The narrow hall was fully extended out into the atmosphere, and it shook with the hurricane force winds of the storm. Several tears had appeared over time in the thin walls of the retractable ramp, ripped through by the sheer winds that were once again pummeling the crevice, made even stronger by being between two buttes, the massive stone structures making a wind tunnel. The metal framework that the thin walls folded into were still intact, but barely, and the only thing preventing him from falling was the remains of the air lock door, now thin and fragile after so many years of the corrosive atmosphere. It was dark, small, claustrophobic. One wrong move and he would fall to his death to the planet's surface, and his hands gripped what framework supports he could as his muscles locked, trying to stay still.

New fear rippled over him. Only the framework he was clinging to and the airlock door was preventing him from falling to his death, and it did nothing to protect him from the wind. He could just lean into the wind when they landed, now he doubted he could stay upright. His grip tightened.

But most importantly, however, the creature couldn't reach into the narrow ramp. He was safe.

A claw swiped at him, silent in the howling of the wind, ripping another tear into the thin material of the ramp.

Fear turned to anger.

"What is your problem?!" he demanded, "All I want to do is help Kanan but you keep getting in the way! You've taken everything from me: Zeb, Sabine, even the _kriffing_ bacta tank and for what! Are you really so happy with toying with your prey that you trap me in this ramp and watch me fall to my death? _Get out of my way!_ If you don't I'll _kill you_!"

But his voice was lost in the sound of the wind, swallowed up and he couldn't even shout his frustrations, and he was ready to rip the world apart for the injustice of it all. He yelled to the top of his lungs but couldn't hear it over the howl, and yet his mind still echoed the growls of the beast above him, and he couldn't even kill the creature without dying himself.

The ramp shuddered violently as the creature made another swipe, and Ezra froze, waiting for the worst to happen. He didn't fall however, and that made him even _angrier_.

Anger turned to hate.

"Come on!" he shouted. "Do it! Just get it over with! You want me, come and get me! I'll ignite my lightsaber into your mouth you stupid beast! I'll kill all of you scorpats, save Zeb and Sabine, and get that tank to Kanan even if it _kills_ me!"

Saying the words was meaningless, however, the storm was louder and stronger than he, and for all his bluster one wrong move really would kill him, and he stayed perfectly still, one arm already going numb from the clutching grip he had on the framework and his tenuous position on the lock door. His hatred was impotent, and the creature knew it, making another swing, getting a hair closer.

He was so _angry_. Angry at the scorpats, angry at the twisted wreck of a ship and all the trouble it was causing, angry at Sabine and Zeb for abandoning him, angry at Hera, and Ahsoka, and he was even _kriffing_ furious at _Kanan_ , for making him worry so much; for doing something so stupidly amazing as blocking orbital bombardment and sacrificing himself – again – for the "greater good" when the real greater good was staying with _Ezra._ It wasn't like Kanan was the only Jedi teacher in the galaxy. There was Ahsoka, and space knew the Inquisitors offered several times to teach him, but he had turned them all down because he wanted _Kanan_. The _least_ the Jedi could do was bother to stick around long enough to _do_ something, and instead he kept going off and abandoning him: shoving him off onto Unduli, procrastinating in the training, staying behind to get captured and tortured by the Inquisitor, and now _this_... Why? _Why_? Was Ezra really such so bad a student? Was he really so unfit for the great Jedi-focus-discipline-mindset? Were the Jedi teachings so great as to be impossible for him to reach?

… Was Ezra really such a failure?

A failure to the Jedi? A failure... to Kanan?

Should he... should he do Kanan a favor and just... leave?

Hate turned to suffering.

Ezra's heart ached at the idea of failing Kanan. The Jedi was the the first person who saw the Lothrat as a _person_ , a child in the streets who was just as human as everyone else on the planet. He was the first adult after his parents who was honest with him, who didn't put on a face or act like a phony. Kanan hid nothing from Ezra, shared every insecurity, every worry, every feeling he had to the youngling – he even said when he was annoyed, or mad. Hera did it, too, but Kanan had been the first. Those two together were everything to him. Zeb was just as happy to kill him at first blush, but then they stole a TIE fighter together they became close. Sabine tried so hard to keep everyone at a distance, but she was the first to jump when one of them was hurt or needed backup. Even Chopper, homicidal droid that he was, had gone above and beyond to try and look out for the team.

For the crew. For the _family_.

All he had wanted, for the longest time, was a family. Not to replace the one he had lost, but to fill in the empty void in his heart. He had wanted to feel warm, wanted, needed, like he had in his home before the Empire had ruined everything. He could still remember being tucked in at night, sitting on his mother's lap while his father made his transmissions or visa versa. The scent of caff in the morning before going to school. All of it disappeared the night his parents were arrested. "Stay here," his mother said. "They won't find you here," his father said, "We'll come back when this is all sorted out."

They never came back. And for seven years nobody even gave him a second glance. Everyone he even tangentially knew were arrested, and he dared not go to the stormtroopers and ask what he should do. Everything changed, and no one was there to help him. No one cared about a Lothrat, the city was filled with them, and none of the other orphans were interested in teaching him to survive. Nobody offered to fill his heart again, and over time he convinced himself he didn't need it, that he would do what everyone else on Lothal would do: fend for himself.

And then he watched a crew steal crates of supplies and donate all of it to Tarkintown. He watched the gratitude everyone offered those strangers, and all he could see were his parents. "If we don't speak out, who will?" they had always said. There were... there were other people out there who were like his parents, and for a brief moment he felt like he was home. He hadn't trusted the feeling at first, hadn't trusted the space cowboy who said weird things and had something called a lightsaber that _sang_ to him.

But... he couldn't deny his heritage any longer, either, couldn't deny that he should be out there helping people. He had no idea how, and those people, that crew, had offered to teach him.

His world was so much bigger now, bigger than the streets, bigger than Lothal, bigger than himself. There was an entire galaxy out there, one just as hurt and lost and alone as he was, and the _Ghost_ was teaching him how to help those people, how to give them agency in their own destinies as Kanan had given him agency in his. He had saved children, he had seen purrgil, he had met so many people. He didn't want to lose that – no, he couldn't lose that now – but he didn't want to lose the very person that had been the impetus of everything that had happened to him. He didn't want to lose Kanan. Or Hera. Or Zeb or Sabine or Chopper. All he wanted was his new family around him.

Why... why did everybody leave him? First his parents, and now this...

He didn't want to be alone.

Not any more.

Not ever again.

Kanan... Kanan...

" _Kanan_..."

He closed his eyes, pulling his knees up and burying his head into his legs, arms still clutching the remains of the ramp's framework. The breather pressed awkwardly into his face and he didn't even care anymore. Let the scorpats come. It didn't matter.

He was surrounded on all sides by wind, even the scorpat could only barely be perceived as it clawed at the opening; it was like he was floating in the storm, at its mercy. Wind was everywhere, whipping through him at painful speeds, and even the sensation of the framework fell away. All that was left was the wind; he was cradled in the storm, and it held him in an void. There was nothing around him, and there was nothing in him. He was empty, inside and out, and he was tired of fighting.

He breathed in slowly, holding his breath, and exhaling just as slowly. He breathed in again. And again. His heart-rate, up in his throat, slowly leveled out, and finally he felt like he was getting enough oxygen, and his mind slowly cleared, emptied out. Tension bled away from his frame, his arm was numb to the shoulder, and he slumped to the side – a contradictory sensation to that of being cradled in the wind – and it was but a dim perception to his senses. All he could do was breath, his entire being was reaching out for Kanan, reaching out so he was no longer alone, reaching out without expecting an answer. There wouldn't be one. He was alone, and he was reaching out to empty space, and there would be no response.

_I'm okay. Ezra. I'm okay._

Something in him stilled, and he listened.

_You don't have to worry. We'll get through this together._

Was this... was this really happening?

_Just do the best you can. The rest will come with time._

"Kanan?"

He opened his eyes, and above him was the pink eyes and the toothy maw of the scorpat. It had ripped open the safety hatch; it now had enough room to pull him into the port and devour him. Fear didn't register in his mind, however, because the Force was with him. The beast was inches from his face, breath heady, ready to eat him; but it was still, ears curiously up, waiting. Ezra reached out and touched its nose, wet and cold.

"Please," he said. "Please let us finish."

His last memory was of yellow fur turning around.

* * *

Zeb didn't care for focusing much when he was in such overwhelming, soul-crushing pain. Being dragged, upside-down, aside from being a total and utter _embarrassment_ , had made it just _slightly_ difficult to understand the path he was taken in the mouth of the darker scorpat. Because, _karabast_ , he was going to escape, he was _going_ to get back, and then he was _going_ to make these beasts regret _ever_ deciding to take a bite out of Garazeb Orellious!

Of course, all those plans involved being able to get up and walk.

He was still working on that part.

It seemed that the scorpats had a communal commissary, and that was where he was being stored with the remains of other prior meals. Various carrion were feasting on the remains that the scorpats hadn't picked over, and Zeb was focusing on simply staying in his corner, bo-rifle ready and charged. They weren't going to get the drop on him again, and he was going to be a _difficult_ meal.

Sabine was still unconscious at his side.

He had checked her over as best he could, being unable to remove her helmet and the rebreather that was hooked up to it. He suspected that she had been banged against something and that she'd probably have a bump on her head, but he couldn't know for sure. It might be worse, but he didn't see any signs of bites, so Zeb could only guess.

He'd already tied down the bite on his leg, and the bleeding had slowed. If he had a medkit, or even the bacta tank, he'd not be in quite so much pain, but for now, he just kept himself ready. Once Sabine woke up, the two could get out. Zeb already had an escape plan, after all.

The scorpats were clearly meant for climbing, whether it be outside along the bluffs or inside the cave systems that likely littered the planet. They seemed to prefer to hang upside down, letting their venomous tails do most of the work, or using the claws they used for climbing. With their clear preference for having the high ground, Zeb planned to use that to his advantage. They had been dumped in an isolated operating theater, likely for any more contagious people who still required surgeries. That worked perfectly for them. Because the door they had ripped open was just _one_ way in. He had already crawled to a door and worked open a panel. He only needed to cross a few more wires and they'd have a way out. Close the door behind them and the scorpats would be none the wiser.

But Zeb would need Sabine to help him walk. He'd need his bo-rifle as a weapon for when they came after them again.

"Come on," he growled quietly. "Wake up."

Space only knew if Ezra had managed to get the tank back to the shuttle. Or if he was still running widely out there. Zeb narrowed his eyes, not really wanting to think about it. Ezra wasn't answering his comm and Hera didn't know where he was. The storm was raging overhead, not that Zeb could hear it this deep in the ship, and he remembered another storm they had just been through that had hid them from the Imperials, but left Kanan exposed to the weather while broken and bleeding.

Storms either worked with you or against you.

But with the weather as it was, Hera couldn't come down and do anything. Not that he wanted her too, regardless. These beasts were tricky enough when it had been the three of them. Her alone, without the safety of the _Ghost_ wasn't something that Zeb was willing to risk. Of course, he also knew better than to say that to her.

"Uggghhhh," came a soft groan.

Zeb put a massive, taloned hand on Sabine's shoulder. "Shhhhh," he whispered. "Take it easy."

"What…" She shot up. "Ezra!"

"Shhhhh," Zeb repeated, pulling her closer to him. "Stay calm. Take a minute."

"They can _kriffin'_ regulate their temperature."

"So no thermal scans?"

" _No_ ," she hissed.

"That's fine," he said gently, holding her close. "We seem to regularly face the impossible. We'll get out of this as well."

" _How_?" she demanded.

And Zeb offered his best smile. "By outsmarting them."

He could almost hear Sabine's smile behind her helmet.

There was a clanking thud, and Zeb decided filling her in wouldn't be much of an option, so he quickly returned to the panel, and finished the rewiring, opening the door to get them out of here. Sabine was already standing, ready to help him heft his weight, but they both froze at the open door.

One of the scorpats was there, ears up and curious, staring at them with its pink eyes, looking remarkably calm.

"Oh _karabast_ ," Zeb muttered, getting his bo-rifle ready.

"Behind us!"

But it was too late. The darker scorpat had used their surprise to drop down into the communal commissary and its two tails were already wrapping around each of them.

" _Noooo_!" Sabine screamed. "No! We are _not_ going down like this!"

Zeb tried to fight back as well, but the first scorpat given a sharp hissing growl before grabbing his bo-rifle right out of his hand before he could use it to poke the tail that held him. He started swearing in earnest, Sabine beside him and screaming out her displeasure.

Neither scorpat made a sound as they started climbing out and then maneuvered around the corridors in surprisingly synchronous ease.

"Wait a minute," Zeb grunted as they dropped to another hall. "We're nearing the outer hull."

That cut through to Sabine. " _What_? These are cave dwellers. Why are they heading outside?"

The wind could be heard now, roaring like a pod-racer's engine as the hull of the beleaguered _MedStar_ shook and rattled under another beating of time and ravaging winds.

The yellow gasses were all around them, making the scorpats almost disappear into their environment, their eyes squinting at the light that was filtering in from the outside. They came to the tail of the ship, where most of the docking ramps and docking bays were, when the scorpat holding Zeb's bo-rifle dropped it and just wandered back the way they came. The darker one that had been carrying Zeb and Sabine dropped them and Zeb _worked_ not to scream as his leg couldn't take his weight. He scrambled for his bo-rifle, turning and, painfully on his knees, held it for defense, not at all trusting the strangeness of this. They should be dinner back at that communal commissary, so why did the beasts bring them here?

But the two scorpats kept walking calmly away.

"Okay, that was weirder than what we usually deal with," Sabine muttered, blasters still ready.

"And that's saying something," Zeb agreed. Ever since Kanan had started being a Jedi openly, well life was far less dull.

Sabine was daring to glance at her readings. "I know where we are in the layout. I can get us back to the shuttle easily from here."

She continued to list directions, but Zeb wasn't listening. His ears were twitching against the howling wind.

"Sabine, shush," he hissed.

She growled something, but Zeb was too busy listening. "I said _hush_."

She stilled, and Zeb let his ears twitch back and forth, listening to something so soft that it was hard to hear over the wind and the echo on the ship.

"Oh _karabast_!" he cursed in earnest.

"What? What is it, Zeb?"

But Zeb was using his bo-rifle as a walking stick and hobbling up along the incline of the hull till he reached an extended docking ramp.

"Please let us finish this. Please let us finish this. Please let us finish this…."

" _Kid_!" Zeb shouted, looking down.

The docking ramp was extended out over open air, the wind's roar drowning out almost everything. The door was corroded and only barely holding as a floor and on that floor, knees pulled together, was Ezra. His eyes were glassy, one bleeding arm was gripping a railing with white knuckles, while the other was raised and reaching for something.

"Please let us finish this."

"Oh, kid," Zeb mumbled.

"Ezra!" Sabine shouted. "Ezra! Can you hear us?"

But the kid was too far gone. Whether it was that Force religion mumbo-jumbo, blood loss, or some other ailment they couldn't see, Ezra just kept repeating himself, arm outstretched, and holding on for dear life.

"Sabine!"

"Already on it!" the Mandolorian said, holstering her blasters and securing a line for climbing down.

The lot of them were a mess. Zeb needed his bo-rifle to walk, Sabine was going to have to carry Ezra. And they still needed to get to the bacta-tank, wherever it was, and get off this rock.

" _Zeb, are you there? Do you copy?_ "

Zeb reached for his comm and flipped it on before quickly reaching down to help Sabine pull up Ezra, who was more of a deadweight than he looked.

"With you, Hera," he grunted, hefting the young Padawan.

" _Chopper just docked with the bacta-tank._ "

Zeb and Sabine just paused, looking at each other.

"How in seven Correllian _hells_ did he do that?"

* * *

"Kid, wake up."

Ezra was slow to pull back to reality. He was so _cold_. His entire frame shivered, and his teeth chattered. Skin crawling with space-bumps he pushed himself up to a sitting position. What happened? He looked up and saw Zeb and Sabine over him. That didn't register as right in his head, and he blinked slowly, trying to process. And... why was he on a flat surface, instead of the incline of the _MedStar_...?

"W-What...?" he tried to ask, but his teeth couldn't stop shaking enough to form the words, and a massive shudder thundered through his body. He dimly realized one arm was numb, he couldn't move it.

"We're on the _Ghost_ ," Hera said, her lekku brushing over her shoulders as she leaned into his personal space. "Chopper brought the bacta tank up to the ship and I went back for you. Do you remember any of it?"

"... N-n-no." He could see better now; he was in the cargo bay, the bacta tank fitting snuggly into the space on its side. They succeeded? How...?

The Twi'lek smiled softly, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. "We can fill you in later. You did a lot today; you've earned your rest."

"I d-don't under-understand," he said, still shaking. Were the heat regulators busted or something? And his head ached, and his body hurt except for his numb arm. What happened? Thinking was hard, he could barely put a sentence together. The last thing he remembered was the scorpat chasing him, he had fallen somewhere, and there was a lot of wind and... and...

Hera sat on the floor next to him, Zeb and Sabine watching, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. She was like a mini-generator compared to Ezra, and he leaned into the warmth. Home. He was home... Relief flooded him, and he nearly passed out again, sinking into Hera's warmth and the presence of the others around him. He was safe, now, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

"He said he was okay," he mumbled.

He didn't see the other three exchange looks, could barely hear himself and the words he was saying. "He said I shouldn't worry, that we'll get through this together. Kanan said... he said just do your best, the rest will come..."

And something soft touched his mind, warm and relaxed, and he finally fell asleep.

* * *

Hera and Sabine finished settling the youngling in his bunk, piling blankets on his icy skin and letting the poor kid rest. She moved to the cockpit, setting in the coordinates for Phoenix Squadron and jumping to hyperspace before she turned around and gave a green-eyed glare to the delinquents. "So," she said in an obviously fake congenial tone. "What happened down there that was so bad that _you_ ," she leveled a flat glare to Zeb, "are barely able to walk and _you_ ," she turned his glare to Sabine, "have a bump on your head the size of an asteroid and _he_ ," she pointed back to the living quarters, "is like _that_."

"We, uh, might have found a new addition to the galactic bestiary," Zeb said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head while Sabine cringed, worming in her seat.

"And?" Hera said, not letting up. She crossed her arms and hooked one knee over the other.

"And... it might have started hunting us..."

" _And_?"

"And... it might have separated us like intelligent predators and were settling in on eating us 'till the kid did his magic."

Okay. That was it. She stood to her full height, and it didn't matter that she was a good forty centimeters shorter than the hulking Lasat, she merely crossed her arms and _glared_ and he flinched and cringed back. Turning her glare to Sabine made the girl step back, before her Mandalorian blood had her standing straighter and glaring right back.

Hera narrowed her eyes.

Sabine looked away.

" _Garazeb Orellios!_ " she shouted. Both kids cringed again, shoulders hunching. "Why didn't you call for back up? Why didn't you abandon the mission? _Why didn't you tell me what was going on?_ "

"I... er... ahhhh..."

"Sabine, I expected _you_ to be the smart one, to know when to call for help."

"But I-"

Hera took a step forward and both children stepped back. "We've already lost _Kanan_!" she shouted. "He's barely clinging to life, holding on by sheer force of will, and you spent all your time _bickering_ down there? And rather than working together, you arguing caused you to be _picked off_ one by one, leaving Chopper to do all the work and _Ezra_ in whatever state that is?"

"You weren't there!" Sabine shouted back. "It was _terrifying_ and we had a plan, and-"

"And you didn't keep me in the loop," Hera interrupted in a quiet voice. "More than anything else, you didn't keep me in the loop. _Whenever_ you are out on an op, I need to be kept in the loop. If pick-up needs to be moved to a new location, I need to be told, if time of the rendezvous changes, I need to be told, if you suddenly need air support, _I need to know_!"

"We know but-"

"But instead," she continued calmly and quietly, "I call in when you miss your check in and have _Ezra_ explaining that he'd just lost _you_ ," she glared at Zeb, "and that he and Sabine were still coming back with the bacta tank."

"Hey," Zeb tried to get a word in. "Once I was loose I _contacted_ you-"

"And failed to communicate just how dire the situation was. You said, and I quote, 'I've got this under control. No need for you to come down.' Was that the case?"

"I-"

"You could still walk when you contacted me?"

"No, but-"

"And _you_ ," she turned to Sabine, "never contacted me at all." Hera narrowed her eyes. "Do you trust me so little?"

"Of _course_ I trust you! With my life! I was just-"

Hera turned her back to them, cutting off their rebuttals, and let out a long, tired sigh. She'd been awake for three days once they'd landed on that forsaken rock till they'd gotten Kanan to the fleet. She had only slept on the ride here out of sheer physical exhaustion, and now she had been up for pushing twenty-four hours because she wasn't contacted or given faulty information by her own team. She needed sleep desperately before she decided how to deal with the children.

Space, she wanted Kanan with her right now. He could cut through their arguments with the training of a diplomat and get them to see what the appropriate punishments could be.

Hera ached for him.

But they had a bacta tank. Ezra said that Kanan would be fine, but given how out of it he was, she wasn't entirely sure how much stock she could put into that. And yet... now they were more damaged than when they started. Sabine had been unconscious, who knew how long, and would need to be monitored, Zeb was only standing with the help of his bo-rifle, Ezra...

Hera rubbed her face. There was a rip in his sleeve and a steady flow of blood. From the description of the beast that they had all given, it was likely that he had some sort of venom in his system. They'd given him a basic anti-venom from most medikits. But they'd need to do a blood analysis to be certain.

So much to do still.

She was so tired.

She wanted Kanan by her side. He supported her so much.

Hera turned. "We will finish this discussion later," she said quietly, sitting down and slumping in exhaustion in her seat. "We're still about ten hours away from the fleet. Zeb, I want you getting some sleep. Sabine, stay with Chopper, he can keep you awake and monitor you to ensure that there's nothing else wrong."

The two children looked hesitant, but Hera ignored them, turning her seat to start checking readings and ensuring that all was well with the ship. They left not long after. She contacted Commander Sato, gave him an update, and he said he'd have a medical team ready when they came.

Again.

Hera rubbed her face again, trying to massage any kind of awake into herself. She did some more chores, basic things that still needed doing, checking headings, fuel gauges, diagnostics after the rush repair job and then rush mission they'd been on. Making a list of parts they'd need when they next docked at an actual port, checking supplies. Even went down to the cargo hold to check the bacta tank. It was certainly going to need a scrub down before installation.

She headed back to the cockpit and saw Zeb in the galley, cooking some sort of snack before heading back to his bunk with Ezra for some proper sleep. Hera nodded to herself. Going by Sabine's room, she saw the Mandalorian talking with Chopper, sketchpad in hand. The little C1 droid had an arm poking Sabine's thigh and grumbling, and the Mandalorian just gave a dry chuckle, continuing whatever she'd been speaking so softly of. Just what she was supposed to do.

She walked by Kanan's room and stepped in. Felt his absence.

Then she shook her head. She didn't have time for this.

She backtracked to Ezra and Zeb's room, finding the Padawan still on the bunk, blanket draped over him, and shivering. Hera couldn't quite hold back a frown, wondering why he was so cold and had been since Zeb and Sabine had found him. The gas giant hadn't exactly been an ice-world, and Zeb, who needed bare feet since it was so difficult to find shoes for his climbing feet, would have been the first to point out temperature fluctuations. And even so, they'd been back for several hours now. So why was he shivering?

Hera hefted herself lightly to the upper bunk and sat down above Ezra's head and stroked his hair. His arm had been bandaged and bound to him, no one wanting him to jostle it to say nothing of what motion might do to making the venom spread further or not. Who knew how that beast worked in terms of whatever toxins it had. Ezra shuddered again, and Hera just couldn't stand it any more.

She had been unable to do anything for Kanan.

She had been unable to do anything for Zeb or Sabine.

She _refused_ to be unable to do anything for Ezra.

"Come on, Ezra," she whispered softly, nudging his shoulder. "I need you to move a little."

"... Kanan..." Ezra whispered. "I'm coming back... Kanan..."

"That's it, youngling," Hera said soothingly, helping the dazed Padawan sit up. Then she leaned back and pulled him to her, wrapping him in her arms and adjusting the blanket. "Rest, Ezra. It's almost over. We'll be back soon."

Ezra's eyes seemed to clear briefly. "Hera..."

"That's right," she said softly. "Go to sleep."

"Hera... Kanan... he..."

"Shhhh," she whispered, carding her fingers through his hair again. "Rest, little one. It's all fine."

Ezra's eyes lost their focus and he snuggled in to her, seeming to curl around the only source of heat he could find. She held him close, whispering soft nothings. In time, he seemed to stop shivering, his grip on her loosening as he started to fall into a true sleep. Whether that was good or not with the venom, Hera didn't know. But it let him rest, which he needed as desperately as her.

Dimly, from her furthest memories, came a lullaby. Hera glanced around, found no one near, and settled deeper into the cushions. She had only ever sung for Kanan, in the most private of moments. But for this boy, she didn't think Kanan would mind.

" _Hush now, little one,_

_Go to sleep._

_The hardest work is done._

_One need not fear,_

_The Force is here,_

_To make your rest so deep._

_Hush now, little one,_

_Time to rest,_

_To have another day of fun._

_One's good dreams come,_

_With all's freedom,_

_So the healing's begun_."

* * *

For the record, Kanan was in pain. Also for the record, it was nothing compared to his torture over Mustafar. That lovely little incident had completely rewritten what his threshold for agony was and no pain he would ever feel again would compare to those days under the Inquisitor's "tender" care. Having a screwed up measurement system didn't mean, however, that he could just shrug off any injury he sustained. When Kanan came to he was aware of all of this, and decided maybe he should just sink back into unconsciousness. Then the memories of everything that brought him this uncomfortable level of agony resurfaced and bald responsibility told him he better open his eyes and check in. Hera would kill him if she ever found him sleeping on the job.

His ribs absolutely hated him, but he could just feel the tape holding them together. His arm was decidedly broken, and his leg was on fire with the burn of his body trying to heal the wound. More than that he didn't want to examine, and he finally worked up the nerve to crack open his eyes. He wasn't on the _Ghost_ , that was dubious but not always bad, and he didn't recognize where he was. The walls weren't imperial grey, though, and he considered that a small victory.

Hera was there, sleeping in a chair, looking less than herself.

He reached out a hand, hoping to hold hers for a little while as he went back to sleep, but fire shot up his ribs and he grunted. Hera was awake in an instant, shooting to her feet before their eyes locked, and she sagged back in her chair with relief. "Don't scare me like that," she said with a deep breath, exhaling what sounded like days of tension.

Kanan tried to give a wry grin. "Sorry, I thought it was every fourth day."

Hera gave a weak grin. "Well, you more than met your quota for the next several months."

The levity slowly melted away. "How'd we do?"

"We got off planet without a hitch. The Empire thought the bombardment worked. We're going to have a long talk about that decision you made, by the way," she added with the tone she usually reserved for when she was scolding the kids.

"Sorry," Kanan mumbled.

"You should be," Hera said, a hint of pain in her eyes. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," he admitted. "I wasn't really there, I don't think. I was remembering practicing Form III with my master. It was a good memory, before it all went south, and then I was back on the ship with Ezra. I didn't really realize what I'd done, but then that last shot came, and I had to try to do it again. I didn't know if I could and... well, I guess it was the Will of the Force."

"It wasn't okay."

"No, it wasn't," he admitted. Every inch of his body ached. "Next time I'll know better."

"Next time?"

He grinned, weakly. "What about you?" he asked. "You look exhausted. What happened while I was out?"

"Before or after the surgery to remove all the shrapnel you stuck yourself with?"

"That bad, huh?" He reached his hand out again, it barely moved but Hera saw it like she always did and took his hand. It was warm to the touch, and Kanan felt relief having human contact.

"You were in a bad way after surgery. You'd pull through, but recovery will – would – be long without a bacta tank, they said. So we went out and found you one."

… What?

His question must have showed on his face, because Hera smiled and nodded. "We all wanted you to get well, and we all wanted it to be fast. So we found one to use ourselves. They're installing it right now, you'll be dipped in it either tonight or some time tomorrow."

"Well, that's a relief," Kanan said, expecting his partner to smile. She didn't; if anything she looked even more tired, and the former Padawan frowned, reading something on her face. "Did something happen?" he asked. "We didn't steal from a hospital, did we?"

"No, no; nothing like that," Hera said quickly. "Just... it was a little harder without you."

Kanan tried for comedy again. "What, no one to pin the blame on?"

Hera made a face. "Don't joke about this," she said. "It was bad. We were salvaging on a downed _MedStar_ , and some creatures had made it their home. That shouldn't be a problem for us, but we fell apart. Zeb and Sabine got hurt and Ezra..."

Darkness, fear, _I don't want to be alone anymore, not again, not ever_. The cold.

"He did it again," Kanan sighed. "He touched the Dark Side."

"The Dark Side," Hera repeated. "You've said that before; a Jedi thing."

Kanan snorted and winced in succession. "Definitely _not_ a Jedi thing," he corrected.

"Fine. A _Force_ thing. I remember you telling Ezra about it, but I was doing other things. What is the Dark Side?" Hera asked. "Other than the obvious," she added.

That... was decidedly not an easy question to someone who wasn't sensitive. "The Force..." he started. How to explain it... "There is a Light side and a Dark side. The Jedi are taught discipline, focus, we control our emotions, all so we can cling to the Light. The Dark Side... fear, anger, hate, they all lead to the cold: fear of loss, anger and revenge, consuming hate. People strong with the Force are open to _all_ of it, and the Dark Side is so powerful it takes over, destroys us from the inside out, kills our spirits and makes us monsters. That Sith Lord we saw during the Lothal siege, he was soaked in the Dark Side. We're taken as younglings to teach us discipline at an early age, we're given a master to train us as puberty starts, because when we're teenagers our bodies change so much, our power grows so much, that we're even more susceptible to the seduction. Passion, strong emotion, but most especially fear."

"And Ezra has a lot to fear?" Hera asked.

Kanan snorted again, and jab of intense pain in his ribs rewarded him for the effort. He grimaced and Hera squeezed his hand. "His parents were taken from him as a child and he grew up an orphan on the streets. He finally has a family again and he's terrified he'll lose them, too. It's not the first time he's done this."

Hera's face slacked with shock. "It's not?"

"No, the fyrnocks on Fort Anexes. He has the rare talent to connect to the Living Force through nature, and I thought we could use that to defeat the Inquisitor. It worked, for a while, but then..."

Kanan never lasted long against an Inquisitor. No matter how hard he trained now, he was no match for them, simply because his training had never progressed far enough to handle an enemy that powerful. He was a failure as a teacher, in that respect; there was so much he didn't know and couldn't pass on because of his incomplete training. He hadn't even been strong enough to save his master... He suddenly wanted a drink, but pushed the feeling aside. He was responsible now, and he was long past shirking on his duties.

"The Inquisitor used _Dun Möch_ , he manipulated Ezra into touching the Dark Side, and the fyrnocks..." He could still see it so clearly, Ezra at the edge of the platform, eyes wide, body shaking, and simply... collapsing. The Darkness faded, and it was then that Kanan realized what had happened, when he realized the danger Ezra posed to himself as someone strong with the Force. "I've been trying to prevent it from happening again. Looks like I failed."

Hera squeezed his hand again.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking away. "Looks like this really is all my fault."

"No," the Twi'lek said, leaning in. "Don't do that to yourself. You do so much for this crew. This all started because you risked your life to save us, love. You're always looking out for us, encouraging us, keeping us alive, and you still don't think you're worthy."

He blinked rapidly, a warm thrill of emotion sweeping over him. Then he turned away, warmth replaced with shame, remembering: _Do you remember her last words to you? Her last, final words before she died? Tell me Jedi. What was her last word to you? What do you think the Rebels would do if they knew their leader was a coward?_

"Hera... I'm really not. Worthy, I mean." His ribs prickled and his leg burned, but it was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

A finger touched his lips, and he looked up to see Hera leaning over him, face warm and soft, her voice a soft "Shhhh..." The Twi'lek lifted a knee to sit on the bed, leaning in and filling his vision. "You can't measure yourself by your failures. Am I any less worthy after failing to protect so much of Phoenix Squad?"

Kanan shook his head. She smiled.

"Hera, Sabine said you'd want to know that—Kanan!"

The former Padawan's eyes snapped to the door, Hera turning around to see, and they watched as Ezra drank in the site of his wayward teacher awake. Kanan could sense a myriad of emotions: relief and worry the two strongest, but under it was a touch of fear, too. That wouldn't do. Kanan put on his best smile, and lifted his good arm up, offering. Ezra accepted immediately, zooming over to the other side of the bed and leaning over the frame, wrapping his arms around Kanan and pressing his face into the pseudo-Jedi's shoulder. The fear melted away almost immediately, and once it was gone Ezra straightened enough to punch Kanan in his good shoulder, making him grunt.

"You shouldn't have scared me like that!" he shouted.

Then he hugged him again.

Kanan looked to Hera, a little helpless at the two different reactions, but she just smiled softly, her face filled with something warm and deep. They held hands again, and Ezra proceeded to lecture his master on the proper etiquette of scaring someone half to death.

Kanan let the words lull him back to sleep.

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done. Kanan does a thing, Ezra does a thing, and it all works out in the end.
> 
> Well, it's a fair bit more detailed than that, but the chapter really speaks for itself, we don't really have a lot to add. In light of the season finale this is even more apropos with where Ezra's mindscape left off and to our delight, this fic looks like it could fit mostly into the series - not an easy feat with a world as complex as the one Pablo Hidalgo and Dave Filioni have created. That we managed as well as we did makes us happy.
> 
> As our first Rebels fic, looking back at this now shows where we needed to work. Hera and Chopper - ironically - barely have a role in this fic, Zeb and Sabine's characterizations are a little shaky. Some of this we have fixed since then, others not. But for our first outing, I tentatively label this as a win.

**Author's Note:**

> So, while we have other Rebels fics up, this one is actually the first one we wrote. You can tell we don't have a firm handle on the characters yet, this fic was mostly about us getting to know them. You can already see our fan-gaze of Kanan and Hera, and the two of us are still kind of struggling with Zeb and Sabine, but for this two-parter we just play.
> 
> In terms of timeline, this takes place somewhere in the first half of season 2 - perhaps obviously because thoughts on being a Knight. We still weren't completely caught up on the season yet so the timing is a little sketchy. Still, enjoy watching us learn about the crew!
> 
> Next/Final chapter: If part 1 was about Kanan being awesome, then part 2 is about the crew (kids) rallying to try and undo the damage. Ezra, of course, doesn't take this well.


End file.
